


Elysium

by tfm



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/M, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-24
Updated: 2011-06-24
Packaged: 2017-10-13 08:40:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 74,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/135336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tfm/pseuds/tfm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They thought that it was only going to be one night. They were wrong. An unexpected pregnancy leads Emily and Derek to re-evaluate their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Prologue

 _Mid May, 2010_

The flight back to Quantico seemed to take an eternity.

Emily knew that if she were to ask Reid, he could probably give her the average flight time from Tacoma down to the millisecond, but he was currently engaged in a card game with a somewhat disinterested JJ. The case hadn’t been a particularly happy one – none of their cases were, really – and they were all just that little bit distant.

‘You alright?’ Morgan asked, as he slid into the seat opposite. Emily stared at him. There was a book lying open in front of her, but she hadn’t even _tried_ looking at the words, knowing that her mind would probably just drift off before she got a sentence in.

That was the problem with the flight home; Emily was tired and frustrated, and all she really wanted to do was sink into a bubble bath with a half glass of red wine, and let her muscles soak, but instead she had to deal with four hours of keeping her guard up around a group of people that were trained to notice behavior.

It was little comfort to know that they were all in the same boat.

Sure, Hotch probably wouldn’t go for the bubble bath, and Rossi would choose Glenfiddich over Merlot, but the principle was the same.

‘Same old, you know?’ Emily shrugged, letting the book snap shut. ‘We catch a bad guy, but there’s another one ready to take his place.’

‘That feeling never changes.’

‘I know.’ She gave him a grim smile. ‘Sometimes it just feels like we keep switching sides. What was it you said – knocking down walls, or tackling unsubs makes you feel like you’re changing something?’

‘Could have been,’ he replied, with a look of surprise on his face. ‘You remember everything I say?’

‘Just the stuff that makes sense.’

He gave a laugh at that. ‘I’m wounded, Prentiss.’

‘I guess your ego is a little too easily damaged.’

There was a long, awkward, but not quite awkward silence; the kind where you had run out of things to say, but at the same time, not quite sure that anything actually needed to be said.

‘So what’s your mark on the world?’ Derek asked finally, and Emily found herself raising an eyebrow.

‘What do you mean?’

‘What do you do, apart from kicking ass and going on secret Atlantic City sin fests and watching cheesy action movies on Friday nights?’

‘Maybe that’s all I do,’ she told him, but part of her was thinking, “You’ve known me for over three years and you’re asking _now_?” A completely different part of her was thinking, “Shit, maybe that _is_ all I do.” But it wasn’t entirely accurate. She did watch cheesy action movies on Friday nights – many of which Morgan had joined her for – and the Atlantic City sin fests were only an annual occasion.

She read, of course. Not as much as Reid, but enough that she could safely classify herself as a nerd.

‘Seriously?’ he asked, a little bit incredulous.

Emily wrinkled her brow. ‘I think I took a pottery class once. Made a vase.’

He shook his head. ‘That’s it. This weekend, I’m taking you to one of my houses and you can help me knock down walls.’

‘I can’t.’ The immediacy of her refusal seemed to upset him, so she attempted to clarify. ‘It’s not that I’m not interested.’ She bit her lip, not entirely sure how to put it. Whatever words she chose felt like a brush-off. ‘It’s just…it’s been a long week, and I’m tired, and I really can’t face anything more energetic than lying in bed watching TV.’

‘Alright then,’ he said with a grin, but Emily detected the disappointment that was bubbling just below the surface.

‘How about a raincheck?’ she asked, because she wasn’t against the idea. The words seemed to alleviate the situation a little, though she still wondered why he was so intent on getting her to help him knock down walls.

 _Maybe he­—?_

She cut off the thought before it could go any further. Derek Morgan might have been a player, but guys like him weren’t interested in women like Emily. Once upon a time, she might have considered it, but that time was long since past.

Maybe in another universe.

He gave her a smile, and slipped on those ridiculous, oversized headphones that no doubt blocked out the rest of the world. Now that was an idea.

  

  1. It wasn’t long before she managed to drift off to sleep.
  



**…**

Home seemed far too far away. It would be so nice to just go straight from the airstrip to D.C., but her Prius was in the parking garage at Quantico, along with a few other things that she needed to pick up for the weekend. The writing of her report would no doubt take up the parts of her weekend that weren’t devoted to bubble baths or ice-cream.

It was that time of day where traffic was at its peak, and driving home seemed to take so much longer than forty-five minutes. By the time she’d turned the key in the lock and set her go-bag down by the door, the sun had well and truly set, and she could see the bright lights of the District through the wide, glass window.

It was a beautiful view, but Emily had grown used to it; too many times to count, she’d gotten in after dark, exhausted to the bone. It never changed. In the winter, sometimes, there was snow – or a miserable, cold damp that makes it very difficult to get in the Christmas spirit. On the whole, Emily preferred summer rain – the kind of rain that made it feel like the world was being washed clean.

If only it were that simple.

It had been several hours since Emily’s last meal, but she wasn’t particularly hungry; the day’s events had left her feeling a little nauseous, and she figured it would probably be better to let her stomach settle before even beginning to think about food.

One ridiculously long, ridiculously hot bath and half a tub of Rocky Road ice-cream later, Emily was sitting on the edge of her bed in sweat pants and a tank top, towel-drying her hair.

The doorbell rang.

It wasn’t particularly late, but then, Emily didn’t really ever have people visiting her at _any_ time of day. Today, though, she was pretty sure she knew who it was going to be. Derek Morgan was many things, but unpredictable wasn’t one of them.

Sure enough, Emily opened the door to find him standing there with a six-pack of Heineken and a couple of pizza boxes. ‘I’m not interrupting anything, am I?’

Emily raised an eyebrow. ‘What would you do if I said yes?’

‘Well for one thing, I’d be pretty hurt that you felt like you had to lie to me.’

She laughed.

‘Touché.’

She took the boxes off his hand, lifting the top one just slightly. ‘Pepperoni and cheese. Derek Morgan, you are a god amongst men.’

He grinned. ‘I figured we could save the Chicago pizza for another night.’

Setting the boxes on the breakfast counter, she knelt down to find some clean plates in the cupboard. Considering the fact that she’d only just come home, they were all clean. That was one advantage, if it could really be called that, of being away so often. Less dishes.

‘I’m kind of curious,’ she said, giving him a look as he opened the pizza boxes and dished out a slice onto his plate. ‘How exactly is pizza and beer supposed to help me make a mark on the world?’

‘It’s not,’ he admitted. ‘But you said that your weekend was going to be spent watching TV, and I know from experience that TV is improved by the presence of pizza and beer.’

‘Well who am I to deny the Derek Morgan experience?’ She flushed bright almost immediately, realizing what she’d just said.

He tipped her a wink. ‘All you have to do is ask, Princess.’

 _Perhaps,_ Emily thought to herself. _Perhaps it was time for a change of subject._

‘So what do you want to watch?’ she asked, gesturing towards her modest DVD collection. It was mostly sci-fi and drama, with the occasional smattering of cheesy action or romance or comedy. Emily Prentiss had been brought up on variety.

‘You pick,’ he said.

Emily raised an eyebrow. Derek Morgan did not give up control easily, whether it was control over an unsub, or control over the DVD player.

‘You trust me to make a good choice?’

‘Well,’ he said. ‘I figure if you’re a Vonnegut fan, then your taste can’t be that terrible.’

She let out a laugh. ‘Just for that, I should make you watch _Plan 9_.’ It was way too much of a nerd thing, even for Morgan. No, what he needed was something with equal amounts action and nerdery. Like _Star Wars,_ only something where he hadn’t heard Reid nitpick over the specifics of the Kessel Run six times a week.

‘You like Tolkien?’ she ventured. _The Lord of the Rings_ wasn’t quite _Slaughterhouse-Five_ , but it was a modern classic, and she figured that maybe he’d read them too.

‘Sure,’ he nodded. ‘Read the books when I was a kid. Saw the movies with my mom and Des when they came out.’

‘Not Sarah?’

‘Nah.’ He shook his head. ‘She was never much of a fantasy fan.’

The settled down on the sofa with beer and pizza, just inches between them. It wasn’t the most romantic of movies, but Emily was still hyperaware of the fact that the distance grew shorter as time went on. His thigh brushed hers, and she felt a confusing heat building in the pit of her stomach.

It had been a long time since she’d last had sex – even longer since her last long-term relationship. Going into the BAU she’d known that there wouldn’t be that much time for a social life, but somehow that knowledge hadn’t prepared her for the late nights spent alone staring into nothingness. At this point, she would have even welcomed a one-night-stand.

Morgan seemed to sense her discomfort, for lack of a better word, because he turned, a concerned look on his face. ‘Everything okay?’

‘Yeah,’ she nodded. ‘Just a little tense.’

‘No kidding,’ he laughed. He put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Relax, Prentiss. I’m not going to bite.’

 _I kind of wish you would_.

She crossed her arm over her chest, letting her hand rest on his.

‘Emily…’

Emily bit her lip. She’d never been a good liar, but right now, she wasn’t entirely sure that honesty was the best course of action. _Hey Morgan, I have a ridiculous urge to jump your bones, so you should really take off your pants right now._

He might have been a player, but she didn’t think that he’d respond favorably to that request. But even profilers were wrong sometimes.

She turned to face him, her hand squeezing his.

‘It’s been a long week,’ he said.

‘I know.’ Emily nodded.

‘Hell, Prentiss, I’ve wanted to do this for four freaking years.’ The revelation surprised Emily – he’d shown some level of interest right after she’d joined the team, but she assumed that his interest had just…faded. To know that it hadn’t, to know that he’d harbored some kind of secret crush all this time. Well, she wasn’t quite sure how to feel about that.

‘We can’t…’ she started, words caught in her throat. The words she so desperately didn’t want to say. Maybe it wasn’t a crush at all. Maybe it was just a mutual physical attraction that would disappear the moment they shared one moment of unity.

She took his hand and moved it down from her shoulder to rest on her right breast. The act seemed to spark the proactive, womanizing Morgan that she knew. He caressed her through the material of her tank top, before snaking his other arm around her waist, and pulling her towards him.

The first kiss was slow and soft. The second kiss was harder, more passionate, as their need for intimacy built up.

‘Wait.’ Emily pulled away, wincing at the hurt look on his face. ‘No, I just want to…’ She grabbed for the remote control, and turned off the TV.

Morgan’s fingers curled around the bottom of the tank top, hesitating, it seemed, out of a desire for permission, rather than any lingering concerns. She gave him a slight nod, and he pushed the singlet up over her head. His hand brushed against bare skin, and she was suddenly hyperaware of the hardness that pressed into her thigh. Emily shifted slightly, so that his erection pressed against the crotch of her pants. Morgan let out a groan, the sensation cascading through her.

He let his wide hands cup her breasts, thumbs rubbing her nipples until they were hard. ‘Oh, God, Derek,’ she murmured. It had been way too long. His hands wandered though, and she sucked in a deep breath as they moved lower, to the waistband of her sweatpants.

‘Wait,’ she said again. ‘Wait.’

He looked up at her, concerned, and just a little bit disappointed. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Well, if you take my pants off, then I’ll be sitting here practically naked, and you’re still fully clothed.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Okay.’ He went to pull the shirt over his head, but Emily swatted his hands away.

‘My turn.’ She ran her hands underneath his shirt, feeling the hardness of his muscles, the smoothness of his skin. Three years ago, she laughed at the thought of him doing a thousand sit-ups a day. Now, it seemed so damn worth it, it wasn’t funny.

Thanks to the nature of the job, and the close quarters they shared day after day, she’d seen him shirtless before, but as it turned out, context was very important. She imagined leaning up against those perfectly sculpted pectorals as he moved inside of her. She wondered if it was possible to climax just thinking about it.

And to think, she hadn’t even seen his ass yet.

On that thought, he turned them, so that he was hovering over her. It was an almost crushing feeling, and yet there was probably no-one in the world that she trusted more to have this kind of control over her. Maybe Hotch, or Rossi, or Reid, but it felt really, really weird to think about them in this kind of situation.

No. It was always going to be Derek Morgan.

He brushed her hair out of her eyes, fingers caressing her cheek.  This was more than just sex. Even if it only happened once, there was a connection, a sense of affection that had never been there in the one-night stands of previous years. In many ways, she was upset, knowing that it couldn’t go any further.

That was the job for you.

Maybe it was a thing that could have worked, but she didn’t want to transfer to find out. In any case, she was pretty sure that Morgan was still very much in the “short-term relationships” phase of his life.

‘Do you want to take this upstairs?’ she murmured, as he pressed kisses down her chest. It was kind of hard to murmur effectively when you were getting short of breath so quickly. ‘The sofa’s fine, but…’ There were a lot of reasons why she felt like they should take it upstairs. _The bed is more comfortable, the bed is more romantic, the bed is better for endurance sessions._ In the end, she settled on, ‘The condoms are upstairs.’

Morgan grinned. ‘Fair enough.’ He pulled away from her, and she wanted nothing more than to just say, fuck the condoms, fuck the bed, and fuck Derek Morgan, the last one literally. But no. Rome had ensured that she would never do something like that again. Even if she was a long way away from fifteen now, it was a lesson that was burnt into her brain, as though she might fall into the pits of hell itself if she were to ignore it.

 _You don’t just have issues_ , she told herself. _You have a whole fucking subscription._

The journey from living room to bedroom seemed to take far longer than any flight ever had. It felt like years later when Morgan nudged her backwards onto the bed, shucking his pants as he went. He wore navy boxer-briefs that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

 _My god, he is packing a fucking missile launcher._ There were a ridiculous amount of puns that could be made from the description, but Emily was far too busy to care about them.

Then the boxer-briefs disappeared, too, and she found herself staring at something that was most definitely a lot bigger than Morgan’s ego.

‘Uh,’ she started, and he gave her a wide grin. Okay, so maybe not as big as his ego. The bed shifted softly as he dropped down onto it, kneeing his way towards her. She was lying against the headboard, as he straddled her, hands cupping her ass. His thumbs started to work down the elastic of her pants, while his lips pressed into the skin of her stomach.

‘The day you spilt coffee over yourself,’ he started, interspersing his words with kisses. ‘And told me how much of a nerd you were…That was the day I first wanted to kiss you. Right there in the kitchenette.’

‘You should have,’ Emily breathed. ‘I’m pretty sure I was sending off some pretty blatant signals.’ He lowered her panties just slightly, his lips pressing into the dark curls.

‘I know,’ he admitted. ‘I thought…’ He kissed her again. ‘I was pretty sure there was no way you’d be interested in me, and I didn’t want to ruin what we had.’ She lifted her hips as he pulled her panties down.

She jerked backwards as his tongue hit her clit; even though she was watching him, the first, warm touch had come as a surprise. He had a long tongue, and he knew how to use it. It wasn’t just his tongue: he used his lips and his teeth as well. While most other men she’d dated had resorted to using their fingers to help bring her off, Morgan managed to do it with just his mouth.

Fingers curled around the headboard, she gave a loud gasp as she climaxed. There was a beat of silence, and then:

‘Condoms?’ Morgan asked. Still somewhat out of breath, Emily choked out a laugh and gestured towards the nightstand. He either didn’t notice, or didn’t want to draw attention to the other contents of the drawer, some of which hadn’t been used in a very long time, and some of which were used on a weekly basis.

Morgan tore the packet, and rolled the rubber sheath over his erection. _Should’ve gotten the Magnums_ , Emily thought. He moved over her, the head of his cock brushing her thigh. He edged in slowly, and even with the natural lubrication that her body had provided, it was a tight fit.

‘Just…push in,’ she said, through gritted teeth, and he did, hard and fast. Emily let out a strangled gasp, and clutched at Morgan’s shoulders.

He stopped, concern creasing his brow. ‘Did I hurt you?’

Emily could have laughed. ‘It’s a good kind of hurt,’ she murmured. It felt as though he was filling a hole that had been empty, for so long. Maybe she would have had the same feeling had it been anyone else. Maybe not.

She focused her attention on the thin line of sweat that formed on Morgan’s brow as he moved in and out of her, each thrust sparking pleasure and pain within her. His finger snaked down to rub her clit, and she came again. Any stamina she might have had in the past seemed to be have disappeared at Morgan’s touch.

She came again, just moments before he did, both of them breathing hard. ‘Oh. Wow,’ was all she could manage. Morgan rolled off the top of her, grinning.

‘Is that a compliment, princess?’

‘Considering the last guy I slept with struggled to get me off even once, yeah, it is.’

He didn’t respond to that straight away. ‘You deserve better than that,’ he said eventually.

‘What, you mean someone like you?’ she challenged him. The awkward silence was answer enough. ‘It’s okay, Derek. I’m not under any delusions. It was nice, but…I know it can’t happen again.’

‘It _was_ nice,’ he agreed, with a grin. She gave him a playful slap.

He didn’t seem all that interested in leaving, and really, Emily didn’t want him to, either. She curled into his warmth, relishing the feeling of being held for the first time in so long.

In the morning he made pancakes, and they talked about silly, pointless things, and it was almost as though nothing had changed.

Things couldn’t have been further from the truth.


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

 _Six Weeks Later_

According to Reid, who managed to have information on the most peculiar variety of topics, approximately 1% of women in their early 20s were infertile. This rate increased to 16% by the late twenties. By age 40, 60% of women were infertile.

Those figures were probably drastically increased for women who had illegal Italian abortions at the age of fifteen. He hadn’t actually said that though, it had just been the thought running through Emily Prentiss’ head at the time. The main thing she had managed to grasp from that conversation was no matter how much she wanted it, no matter how loudly her biological clock was ticking, it was highly unlikely that she would ever have a child of her own.

She knew that she could adopt, but then that really wasn’t the same thing. There wasn’t the same kind of bond that a mother had with her birth child. There wasn’t that bonding that accompanied holding your child just moments after birth. There wasn’t the first look into the stunned eyes of a newborn infant. There wasn’t that undeniable biological link to show that you had carried on the family bloodline.

Emily Prentiss had given up on all of that a long time ago. The closest she’d ever gotten to a meaningful relationship was the one night stand she had with a colleague six weeks ago – sober, no less. And now, all the statistics, all the improbabilities, all the rules in the world didn’t mean a thing. Because those two little pink lines told her that everything was sure as hell about to change.

She  wasn’t exactly sure how she was supposed to break the news. “Hey Morgan, you remember that time we went at after a hard case…” No. A little too blasé. “Hey, Morgan, guess who’s in the two percent of people who end up pregnant after correct condom use?”

Definitely not the way to go.

 Part of her wanted to call him up and tell him straight away, no bullshitting, no pussyfooting around. “Hey Morgan, I’m pregnant.” Great ice-breaker there. Another part of her wanted so much to be that politician’s daughter; to block it all away and pretend that that night had never happened. Yeah right. Soon enough, the consequences would be pretty damn hard to hide. In any case, she didn’t want to be that kind of person that cut the father out of her life. She had her own experiences with that, not to mention those whacked out serial killers with fucked up childhoods that she saw every day.

And that brought her to another problem – Derek Morgan wasn’t exactly the “wife and kids” kind of guy. He was good with kids, sure, but she couldn’t really see him with any of his own. Couldn’t see him changing a diaper, or pulling a toddler onto his lap to tell a story. For a guy like him, a kid was a serious style cramp.

Her fingers were shaking as she dialed his number, and she wasn’t even really sure why. In a way, this was everything she’d ever wanted. For twenty-three years, she’s been so afraid of making the same stupid teenage mistakes, that she’s lost sight of what she really wanted.  Exactly what that was, though, she wasn’t quite sure, but it entailed coming home to something other than an empty condo with nothing but leftovers in the refrigerator.

‘Hey…’ Her voice was small. Definitely not _her_ voice at all. It was the voice of someone who was confused, a little scared, maybe. And that was something that Morgan picked up on immediately.

‘ _What’s wrong?_ ’ he asked, his voice jumping from surprise at her call, to concern. Not “what’s up?” or “why are you calling me at this time of night?” It was “what’s wrong.” That, more than anything, seemed to make her feel better. He was not a complete stranger. He was a friend. One of the better friends she’d had over the years. Not the kind of friend that would knock her up and then head for the hills. Not like the last one had.

‘Um…can you come over? It’s…it’s important.’ Important seemed as good a word as any to describe this whole situation.  This was big stuff. _Huge_ stuff. Life-changing stuff. And not just for her.

Shit.

Her mind was racing. Thinking of all the negative repercussions from the situation. Work. Their friendship. Hotch. Oh God. What would _Hotch_ say? They couldn’t even use drunkenness as an excuse. They had been two consenting adults engaging in an activity that was prohibited in at least three sub-sections of the FBI handbook.

‘ _Do you want me to bring anything? Chinese? Pizza?_ ’

She glanced at the clock. It was a little after nine p.m, and her stomach was growling. She hadn’t even thought about eating since looking at the test almost three hours ago. She wasn’t nauseous as such, but food had pretty much been the last thing on her mind.

‘I…um…that’d be good.’ She paused for a moment before realizing that she hadn’t actually specified _what_ would be good. ‘Chinese. Chinese would be good.’ She didn’t think she could stomach pizza. As if following her line of thought, her stomach lurched, as if to say “hey! Guess what! You won’t be able to stand the sight of Kung Pao Chicken for the next seven and a half months. Better get used to pickles and ice-cream.”

‘ _I’ll be there soon._ ’

It was not the first time she’d asked him to come over in the middle of the night. The first few times, she hadn’t been able to sleep and Morgan was the only person who she thought would come around at one o’clock in the morning, drink beer and watch a bad action movie. It became something of a tradition. Until _that night_ , when everything had changed. Except she can’t even really blame the beer for that one. While they had been drinking, neither of them were lightweights, and they both knew the perils of losing inhibition.

She could remember every detail. The way his hands moved across her body, the way he moved inside of her like it was going out of fashion, the way he had made her feel worthy of affection. All those things that had made it so much harder to just let go the next morning. But they had. Because that’s what professionals did. They compartmentalized; they put it away in a little box like it never happened.

It was forty-five minutes later, and her body was still shaking when she heard the knock on the door. This was it. The moment of truth. Shit. Shit. What the fuck was she thinking?

She pasted a smile on her face as she let him in, but even though she had all the experience in the world at faking happiness, he saw through the mask like it wasn’t even there. Immediately, his face furrowed in concern.

‘Nightmare?’ he asked, and for a moment she felt like laughing.

Was it a nightmare?

Then she saw the plastic bag filled with cardboard boxes in one hand and the six-pack of Heineken in the other hand, and she knew she was definitely not going to be able to hold out that much longer.

‘I’m pregnant,’ she blurted out suddenly. No preliminaries, no time for deliberation. Immediately, his expression went from one of concern to one of shock. He recovered quickly though, stepping inside fully and shutting the door. This wasn’t a conversation that they needed to have in the hallway, for the rest of the world to hear.

Morgan put the bag and the six-pack down on the counter, and followed her to the sofa. His expression wasn’t exactly unreadable, but she was far too focused on her own emotions to try and figure out what might have been going through his mind. Surprise? Happiness? Complete and utter terror?

‘It’s definitely mine?’ he asked eventually, and confused though Emily was, she detected the slightest amount of hope in his voice. Whether it was hope that it wasn’t his, or hope that it _was_ , she couldn’t quite tell.

‘Yeah.’ She didn’t even need to think about it. With a job like hers, viable sexual propositions weren’t exactly frequent. Morgan was the only person in six months – hell, the only person in a _year_ – that she had been with. The thought made her feel just that little bit more pathetic.

All that emotion she’d been feeling must have been evident in her voice, because the next thing she knew, Morgan was pulling her into a hug. It wasn’t a romantic hug. It was a supportive hug. The kind that let her know that he was going to take responsibility for his actions. Not that she’d expected any different from him. His embrace was warm, comforting. It occurred to Emily all of a sudden that this was the first time she’d ever hugged Derek Morgan.

‘It’s okay,’ he whispered reassuringly, rubbing his hand across her back. ‘It’ll be okay.’ But there was fear in that voice too. Not that Morgan would ever admit to it in a million years. He might have been a mature adult, but she wasn’t sure that he was ready for this. Hell, she didn’t think _she_ wasready for this. ‘What do you want to do?’ he asked, finally. There was even more fear, as if the answer she gave might not have been the one he was looking for.

‘I want to keep it,’ she told him, her words muffled by the fabric of his shirt. And she was almost surprised with _his_ answer.

‘Me too.’ The way he said it made Emily think that there was more to the story; something else that he wasn’t letting on. That made two of them.

Pulling away from Morgan slightly, Emily bit her lip. It was real. They were doing this. ‘What are we going to tell the team?’ Emily found it kind of strange that that was the first thing that came into her mind. Not “how are we going to do this?” or “do you want a boy or a girl?” None of those important things that she’d expected to be thinking about when having her first child.

‘The truth?’ he suggested, with a half shrug, his arms still wrapped around her loosely. ‘That we had a one-night stand, and nothing else came from it…’

‘…except this,’ she finished, but part of her was slightly insulted that he felt that nothing else came from it. Sure, they hadn’t been doing the horizontal tango every night since then, but she liked to believe that the experience had brought them closer, rather than having made things awkward. She tried to push the thought out of her mind. It wasn’t exactly the time to be bristling over hurt feelings.

The silence was broken by the sound of her stomach growling, and her mouth immediately began to water at the thought of the pork dumplings sitting on her kitchen counter. Morgan let go, and for a moment, she mourned the loss of the warmth. Then, she realized that the only reason he let go was so that he could alleviate those stomach growls, and the warmth came right back.

‘Did you still want to eat?’ he asked, overcome with an uncertainty that she’d never really seen in him before. ‘I mean…I’m not sure…I’ve never…’ _He’s never been in this situation_ , Emily finished for him mentally. She only wished she could say the same.

‘It should be fine.’ She accepted the bowl and chopsticks from him, her heart warming when she noticed that he’d given her all the tiny shrimp from the fried rice. She’s not quite sure why that made her so happy. Maybe it was because he remembered an offhand comment from months ago about her inexplicable love for the things. Maybe it was just coincidence.

Distracted by the thought of food, the brain-mouth filter was off when she started talking. ‘I know cheeses are a problem – soft cheeses. Also…processed meats. I know the last time I was-’ She stopped, immediately aware of what she almost revealed to him. She wants to tell him. She felt like she _should_ tell him, but it was neither the time nor the place. Derek Morgan had enough unexpected news for the day.

There was a slightly awkward moment as Emily mentally kicked herself for what she’d just said. After all, Morgan was not the kind of person who was just going to let it go without learning the full story. She was almost grateful when she started choking on one of those shrimp that had made her so happy just a minute or so earlier.

He was at her side in an instant, trying to dislodge the food from her trachea. His hand hit her back with less force than he normally would have applied. After all, there was more than one person he needs to be concerned about.

‘I’m fine,’ she managed to cough out. ‘It’s gone.’ He got her a glass of water anyway, of which she drank a liberal amount. Thankfully, he seemed to have forgotten about what she said right before the incident.

‘You’ve got to be more careful,’ he said, chuckling slightly.

And then it struck home, with the force of a sledgehammer.

She was having a kid.

She was having a fucking kid. Holy shit. Out of the field for how long? And then maternity leave…She’d have to buy a crib, a change table. Hire a nanny.

Why did she ever think she was cut out for this? A tear sprang to her eye, and it was part hormones, but mostly the fact that Morgan wasn’t the only one who was out of his depth. She’d be bringing someone into the world that needed to be raised, to be nurtured. Would she be a good mom? Would her kid like her? How was this going to affect her life?

‘Oh God.’ She wiped the tears from her eyes. ‘Sorry. This is…this is really weird.’ Suddenly, she didn’t feel like eating anymore. She was sick to her stomach and it was more than just the morning sickness that was going to dominate the next ten weeks of her life.

‘Did you want to talk?’ he asked, putting down his chopsticks.

She shook her head, biting her lip. ‘Not tonight…I’m freaking out just thinking about it right now. God, Morgan…What are we going to _do_?’

‘I’ll put on a movie,’ he suggested. ‘We can just…not panic for a bit.’

To Emily, that didn’t seem so bad. Curled up with Morgan on the sofa…Wait. No. They weren’t even really together, were they?

God, this was going to be awkward. It would be bad enough if they _were_ still sleeping with each other. This…this was just complicated.

He shifted his bowl and chopsticks to the coffee table, and started rummaging through the DVD shelf. She trusted his judgment; he wasn’t going to choose anything with babies, or a tearjerker. What she needed right now is something completely mindless. She almost broke into hysterics when she heard the ridiculous theme song that told her he’d chosen the 1966 Batman.

Because that was just what this was. Ridiculous. She was in a position she never thought she’d see herself in again. Impregnated by one of her best friends. She was hoping like hell that this didn’t ruin the friendship like it did last time. But then, she wasn’t fifteen years old anymore.

‘Batman?’ she asked him, her mouth twisting into something that was almost a grin. ‘Really, Morgan? I would have thought you’d prefer the gritty Nolan reboot.’

‘Hey, girl, it’s your DVD collection. Anyway, I haven’t seen this one.’

‘Fine,’ she relented, still smiling. ‘But we are _never_ watching Batman and Robin.’ He raised an eyebrow, as if he wasn’t quite sure what the joke was.

It took them a few moments to settle down, and Emily was nothing if not surprise when she felt his arms encircling her, his hand palming her stomach.

‘Morgan…’ she started. ‘You know we can’t do this.’

‘Do what?’ he asked, with the slightest hint of humor in his voice. ‘I’m just comforting a friend.’

She wasn’t so sure she believed him, because after all, it was more than just friendship that drove them to this in the first place. In any case, she was grateful for the gesture, as well as the contact. To just be held by someone close to you was one of the nicest feelings in the world.

 Her hand joined his, their fingers unconsciously intertwining. It was symbolic, almost.

They’d gotten themselves this far, but there was still a long way to go yet.


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

When Morgan woke, it was dark, and it took him a few moments to realize where he was. In Emily’s condo – on her sofa. And Emily herself was still lying there with him.

This was definitely going to take some getting used to.

A quick check of the watch told him that it was a little after 4 a.m. Getting up now would only disturb Emily, and he didn’t want to do that. He knew that she was going to need as much rest as possible over the coming months.

Exhaustion, mood swings, cravings. He would be deluding himself if he thought he could walk away from this.

 _This_.

He wasn’t so sure what _this_ was going to end up being. Emily was a friend – a very good friend – but even after that night, he’d never really considered her as anything more. A few “what might have been” moments, maybe, but nothing more. He knew that she feels the same. But that didn’t bode well for the child. It was going to be hard enough working around their work schedules, let alone sorting out visiting rights. He was happy to think of it as just parenthood at that point, even if it was just to avoid the complications of everything else.

And that brought him to the thought of parenthood. He’d thought about it over the years, but it had never explicitly been on his “to do” list. He’d had so many flings over the last few years, so many one-night stands that the concept of settling down felt almost foreign. And quite frankly, it terrified him. He knew it had probably shown on his face last night, but Emily had been far too pre-occupied with her own terror to notice. Part of him felt like screaming, but then, he knew that in no way would it help the situation.

She shifted slightly in her sleep, and he froze, not wanting to disturb her any further. After a few minutes of simply lying there, thinking, his eyes closed, and he drifted back to sleep.

When he woke again, it was significantly later, and the early morning sun was streaming in through the open curtains. Emily yawned into his chest, and he suppressed the urge to pull her into his grasp.  The last thing he wanted was to make this more complicated. She sat up, and there was a slightly confused look on her face. She’d never been the best morning person. Her skin looked pale – even paler than usual.

‘Are you alright?’ he asked, immediately feeling something akin to anxiety rushing through his body. He’d always been a protective person, but this felt like so much more.

She didn’t answer with words, instead rushing off like a madman. She made it to the kitchen sink, and things become a little clearer to Morgan when last night’s dinner was heaved up.

He realized almost instantly that he had absolutely no idea what to do. He’d unconsciously avoided JJ during the morning sickness period of her pregnancy, and he was the youngest out of his own siblings. In lieu of any other logical option, he pulled her hair back, and rubbed a comforting hand across her shoulders.

‘It’s alright,’ he said softly. ‘It’s alright.’ And it was a mantra he was repeating to himself as much as he was it repeating to her.

‘Ugh.’ She drew away from the sink, wiping her mouth. She hadn’t _quite_ made it to the sink in time, he realized, noticing the stains down the front of her shirt. There was an almost miserable look on her face, one that he’d only ever seen once before – after the death of Matthew Benton.

‘I can clean up here if you wanted to take a shower,’ he offered, still not removing his hand from her shoulder.

She nodded, choking back a laugh. ‘God, I am so not going to miss this when it’s gone.’ She pulled away quickly, leaving him alone in her kitchen. He cleaned out the sink in record time, before bringing his attention to the fact that he should probably make her breakfast; she needed her nutrients.

He was grateful now more than ever for the wonders of technology, as he pulled out his phone and did a net search for the things that he was actually allowed to feed her. He made a mental note to find a Barnes and Noble on the way home and pick up some reference material. He was no Spencer Reid, but he still had nightmares sometimes about the amount of reading he’d done for his J.D.

Armed with a list of foods suitable for a six-week pregnant colleague – lover? – who’d just thrown up in the sink, he searched through her cupboards, unsurprised to find them almost bare. It wasn’t as though there was an abundance of time for buying groceries, with the hours they kept. According to the sites he’d just looked at, Chinese last night had probably been a bad idea, and the lingering smell of Mongolian Beef definitely didn’t help.

 _We need to do some shopping_ , he thought to himself, and then did a mental double-take when he realized that he was starting to think of the two of them as a couple _couple_. Sure, there were some kinks that would need to be worked out eventually, but he hadn’t really thought that far ahead. Already, it was going to be a hell of a complicated family dynamic. They weren’t together, but they wouldn’t really be apart, either.

He wasn’t so sure what he thought about that.

 **…**

She felt marginally better as the water of the shower washed her body clean. Only marginally, because the morning sickness was only the start of her problems. She was having a child with her _co-worker_. If that wasn’t breaking the fraternization rules, then she didn’t know what is. All in all, it meant they were going to have to sit down and talk about what their options were, both career-wise, and looking-after-a-screaming-infant-wise. Admittedly, Emily enjoys spending time with Morgan – and any other member of the team – outside of work, but moving in together seemed like jumping ahead way too far.

At the same time, though, she didn’t want her child to grow up with limited access to either one of its parents. For a good part of her childhood, she had sometimes gone weeks on end without seeing her mother. At times, her father had been just as bad.

She dried off and dressed in clean clothes, tossing her vomit-stained shirt into the tub in the laundry to deal with later. She really couldn’t face cleaning it up right now. But then, part of her thinks it might have been better than facing what waited her downstairs.

What was waiting for her downstairs, though, apparently, was breakfast. She was still feeling a little nauseous, but skipping food in her condition was apparently a big no-no.

He made oatmeal; simple, yet she was immensely grateful that he’d gone to the trouble. In any case, it was something in her cupboards that she _could_ eat safely enough. He was eating the same thing, though that was probably as much to do with the lack of food as it was to do with his chivalrous nature.

It wasn’t quite comfortable – it will be a while before it was comfortable, if it ever even became comfortable. They were both still getting over the shock, and that, coupled with the rapid changes that the next nine months were going to hold, everything was still up in the air.

‘You don’t have to do this,’ she said suddenly, and the fact that she was saying it was as much a surprise to her as it was to him.

‘What?’ There was shock in his voice, and if she wasn’t mistaken – and she’s fairly sure she wasn’t –a bit of anger as well. Still, she started this. She needed to see it through.

She put her spoon down; this needed her full attention.

‘If you don’t want this…’ she said slowly. ‘I won’t hold it against you. I can do it on my own.’

‘You really think I’m that kind of guy?’ he asked, and there was still that shock, and that anger, but this time there was hurt as well.

‘I don’t think that,’ she replied, a little defensively. ‘I just…I know you’re not ready to settle down, and I don’t want to force that on you.’

‘Let me make this clear, Emily. Yes, I have a few commitment issues, and yes, this is going to be terrifying, but there is no fucking way I’m going to make you do this on your own. I take responsibility for my mistakes. I _want_ to do this.’

 _Mistakes_. The word rang a little coldly in her ears, and she couldn’t help but shiver as she wondered if it really had been a mistake.

‘I wasn’t suggesting that you didn’t.’ She paused briefly, before adding, a little softer, ‘I’m sorry.’

‘That’s okay,’ he replied, just as softly.

She stared at the half-empty bowl in front of her.

‘I…uh…need to book an appointment with my OBGYN sometime today,’ she told him, in an attempt to change the topic _away_ from whatever commitment issues there might be between them. ‘Is there anything else we need to do?’

‘Tell Hotch,’ he said, and she was very glad that she hadn’t started eating again, because that statement alone probably would have caused her to start choking. Again. The horror must be showing on her face, because he explained without torturing her further. ‘You can’t go out in the field like this, and I don’t think Hotch would appreciate me telling him to make you do victimology for no reason. Or me telling him what to do at all.’

He did have a point, she conceded, but that didn’t make the prospect of telling their boss that they’d broken the rules any more appealing.

‘Does it have to be today?’ she asked, the anxiety seeping through into her voice. ‘Can’t it be sometime next millennium?’ He didn’t answer that, but then, it had been mostly rhetorical. It _did_ have to be today, because tomorrow the rest of the team would be there as well, and she definitely didn’t want them to be around when Hotch told them off. They’d have to find out eventually, of course, but she’d rather it not be from Hotch’s voice echoing across the bullpen.

Admittedly, she was being a little hyperbolic. He wasn’t going to kill them – at least not with witnesses. He’d definitely be angry – and probably a little bit disappointed as well – but the Bureau frowned upon outright murder.

‘Let’s do this,’ she said, hoping like hell that it wasn’t the biggest mistake of her life.

 **…**

‘There’s still time to elope,’ she muttered, as they walked into the bullpen. She couldn’t help but feel as though all eyes were on them, and wondered if excessive paranoia was a symptom of pregnancy. They weren’t supposed to be in today – Hotch had ordered them all to stay out of the office until tomorrow at the earliest – but there was no doubt that the Unit Chief himself would be there, and it wasn’t uncommon for orders like that one to be disobeyed for the sake of getting a few more inches of paperwork sorted out.

As expected, Hotch was in his office, going over a case file. Morgan tapped lightly on the door, and the Unit Chief looked up. Emily vaguely remembers the last time she had been in this office, not long after Matthew’s death - he’d been reprimanding her for taking the case a little too personally. Of course, he hadn’t been entirely unsympathetic, but it was a harsh reminder that their personal problems weren’t the only thing he had to take into account. There was that whole politics thing that she hated so much.

‘Is everything okay?’ were the first words that came out of Hotch’s mouth, because objectively speaking, it was a little strange – both of them coming in to see him on their day off. She shared a glance with Morgan. That was the million dollar question – _was_ everything okay?

Morgan stepped forward, pulling the door shut, something which Hotch raised an eyebrow at. Emily took a deep breath. She didn’t have time for a pissing contest. She needed to get this over with.

‘I’m pregnant,’ she said, the ensuing silence quite possibly the most uncomfortable thing she’d ever experienced, save for the _last_ unplanned pregnancy. She didn’t need to tell Hotch who the father was – the fact that Morgan had come in with her told him much more than any direct statement would have.

‘Sit down,’ Hotch said, and for a moment, he wasn’t someone they shared drinks with after a case, wasn’t someone that they’d joke around with when he was actually in the mood to smile. Right now, he was Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner, Unit Chief. And he wasn’t happy.

‘Do you realize what you’ve done?’ he asked, and his voice was colder than she’s ever heard it, even back when he’d accused her of having a political agenda. She didn’t think he even spoke to Strauss this way.

‘Come on, Hotch, it was _one_ night,’ Morgan said, a little exasperated.

‘You should both know by now that one time is all it takes.’ He shook his head slightly, and continued. ‘Did either of you even consider the consequences? The Section Chief is watching us like a hawk; just waiting for someone to put a foot out of line so she can break up the team. We got off lucky last time.’

Emily felt the bile rising in her stomach. This was going _way_ worse than she’d anticipated. She hadn’t even thought about Strauss. It made her that much sicker to realize that Hotch was absolutely right. They’d fucked up big time, and if Strauss decided to intervene and break up the team, then it was entirely their fault. Her fault, she amended, since she was pretty sure that she was the one that had done the whole “seducing” thing.

Morgan looked like he was about to come to blows with Hotch, and Emily was mentally pleading for him to let it go. Getting into a fist-fight with the boss was _so_ not going to help things.

‘I think I need to throw up,’ she muttered, standing, partially because the tension in the small room was stifling, and partially because she was pretty sure she did actually need to throw up.

She rushed out of the office and through the bull-pen, ignoring the fact that they definitely _were_ staring at her now. She could feel hot tears hitting her cheeks, and cursed hormones for the fact that she couldn’t keep herself together. The loud, fast footsteps behind her indicated that she was being followed, but she couldn’t muster up the energy to care.

 **…**

Hotch watched as Morgan left the office, hot on Emily’s heels. It was definitely not over – not by a long shot, but he was grateful of the chance to cool down while he thought of the options. It  wasn’t until he heard the voice at the door that he realized Rossi was standing there, looking far smugger than the situation called for.

‘Either she’s pregnant, or you just turned down their request for simultaneous leave so they can elope to Vegas.’

Hotch raised an eyebrow, and pulled the bottle of whiskey out of the locked bottom drawer of his desk.

‘Pregnancy then,’ Rossi nodded, taking the proffered tumbler of amber liquid.

‘You knew?’ Hotch asked, his voice tinged with a bitter humor.

‘Well I know they slept together the one time,’ Rossi replied. ‘And they’ve both been looking at each other wistfully when they think the other one isn’t paying attention.’

Hotch shook his head softly. ‘How do I miss these things, Dave? What kind of leader am I that I don’t see what’s happening with my own team?’

‘Well to be fair,’ Rossi said, taking a liberal swig of scotch, ‘I happened to be getting coffee when I saw Emily give Morgan back his underwear – it was luck, more than profiling.’

Hotch didn’t say anything to that – no matter which way he looked at it, it was still going to take a long time to get used to. That wasn’t even thinking about the time it would take for Morgan and Prentiss to stop hating him.

‘This job…’ said Rossi. ‘It’s hard. We all know that. We all deal with it in our own way. You dive into it – some of us like more physical forms of release. If this hadn’t happened, would you be begrudging them one night of forgetting about all the bad stuff?’

Hotch suppressed a smirk; Rossi took pride in giving his opinion when it wasn’t asked for. ‘There are other ways of finding release that don’t involve breaking the rules.’

Rossi scoffed. ‘Please, Hotch. You’d really rather suggest that they hit the town looking to spend the night with a complete stranger? I think we both know how well that works out. And that’s not even getting started on the pitfalls of committed relationships. How many divorces is the Bureau responsible for? I count four in this room alone.’

‘That doesn’t make it alright.’

‘Hell no, it doesn’t. But what are you going to do about it? Are you going to let the team get split up? Are you going to transfer one of them to the Juneau Field Office so it doesn’t happen again? Are you going to make seven people miserable because of politics?’

‘I can’t ignore it, Dave. You know that.’ He set down his empty glass, toying with the thought of another. He didn’t, though – he had enough on his mind, and fuzziness would only compound the difficulty of the situation. Whatever happened, it’s going to be a long few months.

 **…**

He pushed the door of the ladies’ bathroom open, conscious of the woman walking through the hallway that gives him the evil eye. He shrugged apologetically, and stepped inside. It was quiet, which surprised him. It took him a few seconds to realize that it wasn’t completely quiet – he could hear soft sobs coming from the far stall.

He’d never seen her cry before. Even after Matthew Benton’s death, she had teetered on the edge of tears, but at no time during the investigation did she break down. Not in that way, at least. The sounds stopped; he was pretty sure she didn’t want anyone to see her like this.

He knocked softly on the closed door, head bowed low.

‘I’m okay,’ she said eventually, voice about an octave higher than usual. ‘False alarm.’ In spite of this, she didn’t open the door, which means she wasn’t quite ready to let him see the tears. She cleared her throat, a sound that was half way between a choke and a sob. ‘Maybe next millennium would have been the better option.’

Morgan felt a surge of anger rush through him; even though he knew that on some level, Hotch wasn’t wrong, he still had the strangest urge to punch the Unit Chief in the face. He was feeling overly protective today; she wasn’t the only one he needed to protect any more. Of course, he wasn’t going to tell her that. Instead he let his fingers splay across the door, suddenly aware of the distance that was still between them. Neither of them were wont to giving up more of themselves than was necessary; he could count the things he knew about her childhood on one hand. He had his own reasons for playing things close to the chest.

There was a long silence; Morgan felt like he should say something, only he wasn’t sure what. He was fairly sure that any time he tried to give advice, he ended up screwing the situation up even more. Morgan didn’t want to screw this up, both for his own sake, and for hers.

It was a few minutes before he heard her standing, at which point Morgan stepped back, letting his hand curl back into a fist. When the door opened, she gave him a tiny smile, but her eyes were red. They both pretended not to notice.

‘It’s time to face the music,’ she said, with a deep breath. ‘No more running away.’ He was fairly sure she was talking to herself more than she’s talking to him.

‘We’ll get through this,’ he said confidently. ‘Even if it means bribing Garcia to find blackmail material on Strauss.’

She gave a laugh – a _real_ laugh, adding, ‘I’m pretty sure Garcia would do it for free.’ She took a deep breath.

‘Are you ready for this?’ Morgan asked, and she let the breath out a little shakily.

‘We’ve got to do it.’ There was a determined edge to her voice – the kind of Emily voice that he was used to hearing. ‘Are _you_ ready?’ she asked him, and he has to admit that he wasn’t entirely sure. He probably wasn’t at the point of punching his superior officer, but he couldn’t guarantee that there wouldn’t be any angry words. His alpha male tendencies were omnipresent on the best of days.

They exited the bathroom, finding both Hotch and Rossi waiting for them. There was an awkward silence. It registered in his mind that Rossi evidently knew now, but that was a secondary consideration to the look on Hotch’s face. The Unit Chief didn’t often convey emotion and at that moment he looks almost…apologetic.

‘Let’s take this back to my office,’ he said, and Morgan notices Rossi taking his leave, almost as if the senior profiler had only been there to make sure Hotch followed through.

He shut the door, and closed the blinds, which Morgan was fairly sure would cause whatever rumors were already circling to increase in their intensity. Hotch definitely didn’t want this conversation to be overheard.

‘I can’t pretend I’m pleased with this,’ he said bluntly, adding a little more softly, ‘But for what it’s worth, you have my congratulations.’

Emily shifted slightly in her seat as Hotch continued. ‘I’m going to ask you to stay low for the next couple of days – there are consults that need to be done, and the more time you spend out of the office, the better.’ Morgan almost argued, but then Hotch finished with, ‘I need to sort out the ramifications of this, and quite frankly, it would be easier if you weren’t here when it went down. ’ It does make sense, but Morgan wasn’t entirely convinced. Was Hotch trying to get them out of the way so things weren’t complicated, or because he didn’t want them to hear any rumors about what was _really_ going down.

Except no. Hotch wasn’t that guy. There were plenty of SAICs that didn’t look out for the best interests of the agents under their command, but Aaron Hotchner was not one of them. He’d sacrificed a lot to make the team what it was; no wonder he was pissed.

The meeting didn’t last too much longer; it wasn’t exactly a conventional situation, and Morgan doubted that there was a specific form that could be filled out that solved everything. As much as he hated to admit it, there wasn’t really anything they could do about it now. The ball was in Hotch’s court, and Morgan did not envy him in the least, though he did feel overwhelming guilt at the realization that they were practically subjecting him to Strauss’ wrath; something that all the team had gone to great pains to avoid over the years.

Something told him that they’d be seeing a lot of Strauss’ wrath over the next few months.

 **…**

They stopped at their desks on the way out; Emily had some paperwork she needed to get finished, which could just as easily get done sitting at her kitchen counter with a glass of wine – no scratch that, a glass of ginger ale, because wine was out of the question right now – as she could at her desk. At the very least, doing work will help keep her mind off all the other things that were going on. Still, she felt a weight lifting off her shoulders, knowing that the talk with Hotch was finished, but at the same time, she felt a little sick at the ramifications of it. While it could have gone a lot worse, it could have gone a hell of a lot better as well.

They still had their jobs. They were both still on the team. Either one of those could change at any moment, though, especially once Strauss got involved. She knew for a fact Strauss liked Morgan much, much more, so if anyone was going to get transferred out, it would be her. She’d come to that conclusion long before she’d considered the politics of their situation. Her own attitude towards Strauss in past encounters probably wasn’t going to help things.

She wasn’t going to tell Morgan that though, even if he might have already figured it out on his own – he’d fight her tooth and nail if she made any decision to leave the unit known.

They ran into Garcia on the way to the elevators, and Emily noticed the slightly pained look on Morgan’s face. The two were close – very close – and she wasn’t entirely sure how the technical analyst was going to respond to their news. He gave Emily a questioning look, to which she nodded – Garcia would have other means of discovery if they didn’t tell her now, and the deceit would only serve to make things worse.

‘Hey, baby girl,’ he smiled, and Emily felt the slightest pangs of jealousy. She might be carrying his child, but she didn’t really know him in the same way that Garcia did.

‘Is there something going on here?’ the tech asked, tipping Emily a wink. ‘You two looked like Strauss just caught you doing the dirty in her office.’

Emily let out a small noise, at which Garcia’s eyes widened. ‘You _did_ do the dirty in Strauss’ office?’ she asked with disbelief.

‘Not in Strauss’ office,’ said Morgan quickly, and Garcia’s eyes widened even further.

‘Well I never heard _this_ on the rumor mill,’ she said finally, with some surprise. Then, noting the look on their faces, added, ‘There’s something else, isn’t there?’

Emily shared another look with Morgan, and, with a deep breath, told Garcia. It was barely half a second before she was engulfed in a tight hug. ‘Congratulations,’ Garcia said, voice muffled by Emily’s shoulder. She pulled away, before thumping Morgan softly on the shoulder, adding, ‘And you. Daddy Morgan. Way to go, hot stuff.’

‘We just, uh…We just told Hotch,’ Emily admitted, her eyes cast downward.

‘Oh…’ Garcia gave them a sympathetic look. ‘He didn’t take it well?’

‘Understatement,’ Emily muttered, thinking of the Unit Chief’s initial reaction.

‘Still…’ Garcia put on a wide smile, and because it was Garcia, Emily could tell that it wasn’t entirely fake. ‘A baby. Another nephew or niece to rule over with an iron fist. I’ll have an army of child minions before the decade is through.’

‘The real reason Henry’s going through a punk phase before he’s one,’ Emily smiled.

‘Well if your child takes after Mommy, then I believe there’s a Lady Amaranth phase in the teen years that we’ll need to quell.’ Emily let her eyes roll at that comment, but for a moment, she got the fleeting feeling that everything was going to be fine. In one way or another, the team was family, and even though they wouldn’t be able to help with some of the more horrific things, like telling her mother, they would be there when it counted. Even if it meant her son or daughter ended up being taught how to crack government databases.

By that same token, it meant that any child of hers will have the support network that she’d never had. She wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about that. Grateful? Yes. A little sad? Definitely. But the look on Garcia’s face – the look on _Morgan’s_ face told her that she really shouldn’t be worrying about that just yet.

‘So are you two together?’ Garcia asked – it was the question that Emily knew was coming, even if she wasn’t quite ready to answer it. Morgan was a good friend – maybe her best friend – and she liked him a hell of a lot, but she wasn’t sure if she actually loved him. It wasn’t something they’d really had a chance to discuss.

They shared a quick, almost guilty glance.

‘No. No, we’re not,’ Emily said eventually.

She wasn’t sure why it hurt so much.

 **…**

Emily was silent as they drove back towards D.C. She had that look on her face that told him she was thinking; he really couldn’t blame her. The last couple of days had been a hell of a shock to _his_ system, he thinks that she was probably feeling it ten times worse.

‘You want to get some grocery shopping done?’ he asked – because there really wasn’t much food in her place at all, and even if they weren’t _together_ together, he still wanted to play an active role in this child’s life – a role that started right away.

‘That sounds good.’ Her voice was soft, a little distant.

He pulled into the supermarket parking lot, driving past rows of cars before he found a space. He engaged the parking brake, but neither of them made a move to get out of the car.

‘Did you want me to stay with you tonight?’

She seemed to consider the question for what felt like forever. Eventually, she said slowly, ‘I…I need to think.’

 _I need_ space, is what he felt she was really saying, but there were no malicious overtones. They both needed to think about themselves as well as each other.

‘Okay.’ He wasn’t sure he could say anything else – it wasn’t often that he was lost for words in this way, but he was definitely a little confused, and he didn’t particularly like feeling that he wasn’t in control.

He wasn’t upset – not in that way. He did want kids, but this wasn’t exactly the way he’d planned on doing it. Plus, he’d never really figured that the woman he’d be having kids – _a_ kid – with would be Emily Prentiss. Aside from their one night of stress-relieving passion, he’d never really considered it. Not because she wasn’t his type – she’s intelligent, attractive, had a good sense of humor. All the things Morgan looked for in a date. He was pretty sure that if he’d met her under any other circumstances, he would have gone out with her in an instant.

 _So why should this be any different?_ he asked himself. He didn’t have an answer to that one.

They shopped.

Morgan needed his own groceries – his cupboards were about half filled, but he was going to call his mother at some point, and he was pretty damn sure that she was going to drop everything to fly over and assess the situation locally; it was hard to control the situation from several states away. He loved his mother dearly, but he knew that she would most definitely have things to say about what was going on, promise of grandchildren aside.

He tried to pay for Emily’s groceries, and she rolled her eyes and told him to stop being so chivalrous, but she said it with a grin. It was the second time since they stepped inside that she rolled her eyes at him, the first being when he’d cracked a joke about how much ice-cream she apparently needed to buy. It felt good – almost as though it was the way things should have beef, that easy, comfortable friendship. No pressure, just support. He wonders if he was going to lose that entirely.

He doesn’t want their relationship to be reduced to arguing about who’s taking their child to visit Grandma for Christmas, or who stays behind on the serial rapist case to make sure there’s someone around to watch a piano recital. Maybe they’d never gang up on Reid, or go out for Friday night drinks, or any of those other things, ever again.

There were a lot of complications he hadn’t even begun to consider yet.

He walked her up to her condo carrying half of the bags, because she’d given him hell when he tried to take them all. It would be a different story in six months time. He tried to make conversation about something lighthearted, but neither of them was buying the façade – not really.

She unlocked the door and lets them inside. Morgan started to unpack her groceries before he even realized what he was doing.

‘Thanks,’ she said, giving him a small smile. ‘For everything, I mean. Thanks for having my back with Hotch, and for not freaking out too much.’ He considered the words; it almost sounded as though she had been expecting him to run away. Was there something about him that made her think he would do something like that, or was it a product of her own experiences. Either way…

‘Hey.’ He put a hand on her shoulder – it was all the contact he felt he could allow himself without getting too close. ‘We’re in this together, Em.’ Part of him wanted nothing more than to lean forward and kiss her, but really, that was what got them into this mess in the first place. He felt the awkwardness that had suddenly intruded upon them, so he started to edge towards the door.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow?’ he asked, and she nodded, just a little bit too quickly.

‘I’ll book the appointment for the first sonogram with my OBGYN, and give you the date. Hopefully we should be able to book it around any work commitments.’ She paused. ‘That is, if you wanted to come?’ She was phrasing it like a question, and part of him felt a little hurt that she’d even considered that he might not be interested in going with her.

‘I’ll be there,’ he promised. For some reason it was then that everything hit him with such force, that he was surprised to be still standing. ‘I’m also going to call my mother tonight, so don’t be surprised if she actually flies over when she finds out.’

Emily gave a grimace. ‘I guess I should tell my parents too.’ She seemed unsure, as if she didn’t even want her family to know. ‘So don’t be surprised if someone pulls your file and does a complete background check.’ Morgan gave a slight frown. Emily didn’t flaunt her background, so sometimes, compartmentalization aside, he forget just what her mother was like. That meeting would no doubt be an awkward one, but really, no more awkward than anything else that had happened since yesterday.

He was going to be a father. In eight or so months’ time, there was going to be a tiny little person brought into the world that was dependent on him. Couldn’t pick up women when you were looking after a screaming eight-month-old. Hell, he couldn’t put a baby seat on the back of his motorcycle.

Things were sure as hell about to change.

 


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

It felt weird, going back into work and knowing that everything had changed. They’d been a team once – maybe even a family, in some bizarre sense of the word. Now there was going to be an invisible rift, a rift that would breed tension.

That was why there were rules.

And yet, in some ways, Emily Prentiss did not care in the least, because in a way, she was getting all she ever wanted.

Not _everything_ she’d ever wanted, though. In a perfect world, she’d have a man to go along with her child. Sometimes, it sounded old-fashioned, but it wasn’t as though her plans included quitting the Bureau and staying home to bake cookies all day. With Morgan, the situation was…complicated. Neither of them had gone into the “relationship,” for lack of a better word, looking for long-term commitment. That alone was enough to tell Emily that the only thing that would ever really be between them was this child.

It hurt. A lot.

Not least of all because she had long since come to the conclusion that it was too late for her. Too late to have that fairytale wedding, too late for a romantic honeymoon in Hawaii, too late for spending the rest of her life with someone she loves. She’d have to make do with spending the rest of her life wondering what could have been.

She made her coffee decaf, hoping that at the very least, it would serve as some sort of placebo for caffeine.

‘Morning,’ said Reid next to Emily, and she jumped.

 _Totally not on edge right now._

‘Crap.’ She searched for the roll of paper towels, which seemed to have legs, because it was never in the same spot. When that search failed, she grabbed the wet Chux in the sink that really needed replacing, but there was nothing to replace it with. They were all too busy working to buy kitchen supplies.

‘Is everything alright?’ Reid asked, which was totally not the question she wanted to be asked; he didn’t know yet, but it felt wrong to tell him before Morgan got there. They were in this together, even if they weren’t _actually_ together.

Reid didn’t quite buy her denial, but she didn’t give him the chance to argue either, returning to her desk with coffee in hand. Morgan arrived half a minute later, and she gave him a half smile. ‘I booked an appointment for next Thursday,’ she told him in a low voice. Everyone else was far too busy to be listening in on their conversation, but she doesn’t want to take any chances. ‘And we still need to tell Reid and JJ.’

Of course, it’s at that point that Reid decided to make an appearance, and she heard a, ‘Tell me what?’ and the situation could not have been more cliché if she’d planned it that way.

Emily took a breath, sharing a glance with Morgan. ‘I’m pregnant,’ she said finally, and Reid’s eyes widened in surprise. He might have been lacking in social intelligence, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t put two and two together to figure out how Derek Morgan was involved.

‘That’s uh…congratulations.’ He leaned in and gave her an awkward hug. ‘I guess that’s why Garcia was so eager to get to JJ’s office this morning.’

There was a beat of silence. ‘Well then that saves having to tell JJ,’ Morgan said.

‘I’ll…’ Emily gestured towards JJ’s office. ‘I’m gonna go talk to her.’ She wasn’t super-close with JJ – they didn’t share personal secrets, or have a girls’ night every Friday, or any of those things. Emily didn’t really have that kind of intimacy with _anyone_. Still, she considered JJ a friend, and the conversation was one that needed to be had. The look that transpired between Reid and Morgan indicates that they’d probably be having their own deep and meaningful.

The walk up to the mezzanine level was awkward, and her stomach felt as though it was caught somewhere in her mouth. Whether that was morning sickness, or a side effect of anxiety, she wasn’t quite sure.

The door to JJ’s office was closed, so she rapped softly, pushing it open at the muffled sound of, ‘Come in.’

Emily stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind her, because this wasn’t really a conversation she wanted anyone else to hear.

‘So…’ Emily started. ‘Apparently Garcia’s already spoken to you, which means I’ve officially stolen the title from you for “most awkward pregnancy revelation.”’

‘I dunno,’ JJ said, and Emily was relieved to see that there was a smile on her face. ‘Will showing up at the hotel like that was pretty awkward.’ She pushed the seat opposite her out, and Emily sat down.

‘Well at least Hotch’s reaction to your news was positive,’ Emily said, sounding a lot more self-pitying than she had intended.

‘Oh…’

‘Yeah.’

‘How are you feeling?’ JJ asked, and Emily tried to ignore the fact that she was using the tone that she used when talking to the families of victims.

‘Honestly? Three parts ecstatic, one part absolutely terrified.’

‘That’s normal,’ JJ said. ‘You get used to it, though.’

‘It stops being terrifying?’

JJ gave a mirthful laugh. ‘No,’ she said. ‘You just get used to it. And then the time comes when your stomach feels as though it’s bursting at the seams, and you’ve never been in more pain in your life, and you’re regretting ever having gone near a male member of the species, but then…you lay your eyes on your child, and it’s as though the fear doesn’t really matter anymore.’ Her eyes were misting slightly, and her head was inclined towards the picture of Henry that sat on the desk. ‘You’re going to be a good mother. Trust me.’

Emily hoped like hell that JJ was right.

 **…**

They congregated in the conference room at ten am, like always, and Hotch revealed that the team had been removed from rotation. Morgan didn’t need to guess the reason why, but at the same time, Hotch didn’t bring it up. It was doomed to remain one of those awkward things that didn’t get discussed, but instead loomed over them like a dark cloud.

Paperwork was the order of the day, and Hotch didn’t waste any time in sending them back to their desks. Morgan wasn’t really surprised when the Unit Chief asked him and Emily to stay behind, though.

‘I apologize for my behavior yesterday,’ Hotch said, his voice even. ‘It was inappropriate.’

‘Have you spoken to Strauss yet?’ Emily asked, almost hesitant.

Hotch shook his head. ‘I have a meeting scheduled for this afternoon. As I said before, quite frankly, it would go better if you weren’t present.’

A politics thing, Morgan understood. He was beginning to realize why Emily hated it so much. No, scratch that. Her hatred of it made _sense_ , but he didn’t know jack about the events in her past that have led her to this point. Really, he didn’t know her that much at all; didn’t know her favorite color, her favorite childhood memory, or really anything about her from her years, save the fact that she’d moved around a lot. He knew her in the biblical sense, of course, but that really didn’t count.

There are a couple of local consultations that needed to be done; really, they normally wouldn’t have left the building for something like that, but apparently Hotch wanted them out of the way while he talked to Strauss. Morgan wouldn’t be surprised if the Section Chief went on the warpath after hearing the news, and that definitely wasn’t something he wanted to be around for.

‘Do you want Arlington or Baltimore?’ Emily asked, holding each file up in the air. For a second, he could have fooled himself into thinking that she was talking about color swatches. Something a little more mundane.

‘Baltimore.’ It was a longer drive, but he needed the time to think. Thanks to  traffic, it took him over an hour to drive out there, another twenty minutes to determine that Baltimore _didn’t_ have a serial killer on their hands, but rather two separate killers, one mimicking the first in an attempt to pass the buck.

Single-death perpetrators weren’t the BAU’s jurisdiction, but he stayed around for a little while anyway, helping the Detectives narrow down their suspect pool.

He couldn’t stay there forever, though, even if it _was_ tempting. At three o’clock, he started the drive back to Quantico, stopping only to pick up a late lunch. The meatball sub wasn’t exactly the healthiest of lunches, but he’d had much worse. There was a voice in the back of his mind though, reminding him that he’d probably have to start becoming domestic sooner than he’d planned. That meant well-balanced meals, with five servings of vegetables and two servings of fruit per day, or whatever the recommended amount was. While his own digestive system was used to the frequent pizza and burgers and greasy spoon fair, he was pretty sure that growing children needed something a little more nutritious.

Back at the Quantico, things were tense. As though a fierce dragon was flying overhead, waiting to swoop down on any unsuspecting souls. It was an assessment, he soon learned, that wasn’t too far from the truth, though Hotch had warned them against calling Erin Strauss “The Dragon Lady.”

Apparently, Hotch and Strauss had had their words. Reid stood as Morgan reached his desk, an almost apprehensive look on his face. Morgan’s heart started to beat like a jackhammer.

‘Hotch wants to see you,’ was all the younger man said. Morgan raised an eyebrow.

‘What happened?’

‘Strauss left about an hour ago – she wasn’t storming, but she didn’t look too happy either.’

‘Is Emily back yet?’

Reid shook his head, and Morgan breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever went down in Hotch’s office, he wanted to be the one to deal with it first. Morgan tossed his bag under his desk, and made his way up to Hotch’s office. He caught a few glances on his way up – apparently the rumor mill had been doing its job.

Hotch had an intense look on his face as Morgan took a seat opposite him, but really, that was nothing new. He was willing to be that Hotch had an intense look on his face even when he was brushing his teeth.

‘So…’ Morgan started. ‘Are we…’ He stopped, trying to think of a word: Fired? Suspended? Demoted? Outta Here?

‘I managed to convince the Section Chief that you were both vital parts of the Behavioral Analysis Unit,’ Hotch announced. ‘However, that decision is not necessarily permanent.’

‘She was angry?’

‘She was angry,’ Hotch confirmed.

‘You think she wants to split up the team?’

‘I don’t know,’ the Unit Chief admitted. ‘By all technicalities, she should – you broke the rules, even if you aren’t “together.”’

There was a long pause, and Hotch said, ‘Whatever decision she makes, you’re going to have to live with it.’

 **…**

Friday came around, and they were still off rotation, and the paperwork had died down somewhat, so Hotch sent the team home early. He even followed his own orders on that front, which he’d been doing more and more frequently now that he was Jack’s primary caregiver. The thought reminded Emily that soon enough, she and Morgan would have to sort out things like living arrangements and visitation and whatnot.

She wasn’t really in the mood to do that now, though; for the first time in what felt like forever, she had a full weekend, and she was determined to make good use of it. Of course, she couldn’t do the things she might have usually done, like drinking, or even just hitting a club; it wasn’t that hitting a club would have been excessively dangerous in her condition, but it probably wasn’t the best time to be looking for a hook-up. Instead, her plans involved making a phone call to her mother, which really, was a big enough event that it felt like it would take up two whole days.

They’d agreed to make the calls to their respective families separately; it would make questions about their relationship situation a little less awkward. Morgan didn’t need to hear the Ambassador chastise her daughter for being impregnated by a colleague. A colleague that she wasn’t even dating, no less.

That was tomorrow’s task, though. Tonight she was going to relax and maybe get some reading done – reading that didn’t involve statistics about serial killers.

In theory, anyway. The plans were thwarted when she heard the knock on the door. She knew it isn’t Morgan – he was busy informing his own mother tonight, a phone call that would apparently add a hefty chunk to his phone bill, because Fran Morgan would be ecstatic to hear news of grandchildren.

Emily was almost surprised to see JJ and Garcia standing at her door. They had their own families to be with; it felt strange to think that someone might want to give up their Friday night for her sake.

‘We brought food.’ JJ held up a bag.

‘And entertainment.’ Garcia held up a stack of DVDs.

‘Guys…’ Emily started, her hand gripping the door frame.

‘No arguments!’ said Garcia, even though Emily hadn’t actually gotten the chance to argue yet. ‘We are having Girls’ Night In, and it is going to be _fun_ , and you really look as though you could use some fun right now, peaches.’

Emily stepped back to let them inside. She definitely wasn’t in the mood to fight this one, and anyway, it would probably do her good to hang around someone that wasn’t Morgan. Lately, putting them in the same room together seemed to bring up all manner of awkward situations.

But, letting Penelope Garcia into her home meant having to deal with questions. The Oracle of Quantico would not let so juicy an opportunity slip through her fingers. Apparently JJ had spoken  to the tech, though, because the first question didn’t come until after JJ has kicked them both out of the kitchen; she’d insisted on cooking, because apparently she knew what will make Emily feel nauseous and what wouldn’t, what was good for the baby and what wasn’t. Emily and Garcia moved around to the breakfast counter, which, technically speaking, was part of the kitchen anyway.

‘So what’s it like to ride the chocolate rainbow?’ Garcia asked, the euphemism not going unmissed.

‘Garcia,’ said JJ warningly. ‘I can still hear you.’

‘It’s okay,’ says Emily. Quite frankly, she was kind of relieved to have someone regard her liaison with Morgan with levity, rather than solemnity. With the slightest hint of smugness, she admitted – maybe for the first time, ‘It was pretty fucking fantastic.’

‘I knew it,’ Garcia shrieked. ‘There is no way that man could be anything other than a god in the sack...Not that I would ever get the chance to test that out,’ she added, a little guiltily, because she was most definitely faithful to Kevin.

‘Well, apparently he’s pretty fertile, too.’

‘Hey, don’t knock it,’ Garcia said, pouring them both glasses of lemonade from the bottle in Emily’s fridge. It was almost flat, but Emily doesn’t mind, because the bubbles would upset her already volatile stomach. ‘Once this one makes its entrance into the world, you can get started on a little brother or sister.’

Emily raised an eyebrow.

‘I’m not going to use Morgan as sperm dispenser whenever I want another kid, Penelope.’

‘I wasn’t suggesting that,’ the tech said, her eyes twinkling. Emily stared at her. ‘Oh, come on! You make a really cute couple.’

‘Of course.’ Emily put her glass down, letting her head fall into her hands. ‘My number one criterion for relationships is that Penelope Garcia thinks we make a cute couple.’

‘Oracle of Quantico,’ Garcia reminded her. ‘I’m hardly ever wrong.’

‘JJ, can I get some back-up here?’ Emily pleaded, turning towards the blond, who was dicing carrots.

‘No deal,’ JJ answered. ‘You and Derek Morgan have a lot more in common than either of you would care to admit, and you enjoy spending time with him. It might not be love at first sight, but I think you should at least give it a shot.’

Emily shook her heard. ‘Spending time with him, over the last few days has been _really_ awkward. I don’t know if I can live with that twenty-four/seven.’

‘Sweetie,’ Garcia said gently, laying a hand on her shoulder. ‘You’re pregnant, of course it’s awkward.’ She tipped her head towards JJ, trusting that the other woman would have a suitable example for the situation.

‘The day after I told Will I was pregnant, he flew in from New Orleans. Dropped to his knee in the middle of the airport at 2am and asked me to marry him. I refused to speak with him for the rest of the day.’

‘And you never said yes,’ Garcia pointed out.

‘I didn’t say no either,’ JJ says, shrugging. ‘I guess I just…like what we have.’

‘Well I was perfectly fine with my relationship with Morgan,’ Emily said stubbornly. ‘Before this.’ She gestured towards her stomach, not even really showing at all. ‘I don’t see why everything has to change just because we’re having a child.’

‘You’ll change your mind soon enough,’ Garcia cackled. ‘When your stomach is the size of a small elephant, and your feet are aching but there’s no-one around to rub them for you.’

‘You’re right,’ Emily deadpanned. ‘I’ll marry him, and use him exclusively for foot rubs. Because _that_ isn’t exploitation.’ She realized she was crossing over from snark into downright nastiness, so she reeled herself in, adding a, ‘Sorry. Hormone control, you know?’

‘All is forgiven,’ Garcia smiled. ‘But remember not to overplay the hormone card just because you can.’

‘Scout’s honor.’ She couldn’t quite remember the finger configuration for scout’s honor, so she gave a Vulcan salute instead, which probably had more weight with Garcia anyway.

‘Live long and prosper,’ Garcia nodded. ‘Which reminds me – _Iron Man_ or the _Matrix_?’ She gestured towards the DVDs that she’d brought with her.

‘I don’t know,’ Emily frowned. ‘That’s like asking me to pick between pirates and ninjas. JJ?’

‘I don’t mind,’ JJ said, which was absolutely no help at all. ‘I don’t watch that much sci-fi.’

‘She’ll be watching for Robert Downey Junior and Keanu Reeves,’ Garcia winked.

‘ _Iron Man,_ then,’ Emily grinned. ‘RDJ is cuter.’

‘“Elementary, my dear Watson.”’ Garcia grabbed the case and made her way to the living area. Emily didn’t bother to point out that she already owned both _Iron Man and_ _The Matrix_ on DVD, even if neither disc had seen the inside of the player in some time. In any case, the movie was apparently just a backdrop for Garcia to ask questions about Morgan’s sexual prowess. Questions that Emily tried her hardest to dodge; she wasn’t used to discussing her sex life so nonchalantly, but apparently that was a staple feature of the “Girls’ Night In.” She’d never really been to one before. Girls’ Night _Out_ , on the other hand, she could pretty much dominate, even if it did bring back unwelcome memories sometimes.

‘It was _one_ night,’ she said finally, relenting only slightly – she didn’t really care to reveal that he’d brought her to orgasm three times, or about the way he held her tight afterwards. ‘He came around, we talked for a while, and then things kind of…blossomed. He made breakfast in the morning, and then he left.’

‘He made breakfast?’ Garcia perked up. ‘That’s good – it means he likes you.’

‘Just because he’s chivalrous doesn’t mean he likes me,’ Emily countered. ‘It means he was brought up well.’

Garcia shook her head. ‘You almost sound as though you’re looking for excuses _not_ to let this work,’ she says, and Emily’s knee-jerk response was silence. Maybe Garcia was right. Maybe her mind was subconsciously sabotaging any and all attempts at living happily ever after. That was a myth anyway – the happy ending. In their line of work, nothing ever ended happy, just not as bad as it could have been.

Really, the best outcome she could expect from any of this was simply to have a child that she can call her own. But even that was kind of cynical. Even with all the awkwardness, she’d become a lot closer to Morgan over the last few weeks, hanging out, even when “baby stuff” wasn’t on the agenda.

That didn’t mean they could make a relationship work, though. There were all kinds of other factors to take into account. Admittedly, a lot of those were problems already, thanks to the pregnancy.

She shook her head.

‘I will not actively fight against it,’ she relented finally. ‘But I’m not going to come into work wearing a thong, and get him to jump me in the ladies’ bathroom.’ As if that would have been an option, anyway.

JJ wrinkled her nose. ‘We have to use those bathrooms, you know.’

‘Oh, sugar, that’s pretty tame compared to some of the things that have gone down in that bathroom,’ Garcia said knowingly, and Emily got the idea that she and Kevin were responsible for some of those things.

JJ choked on her drink. ‘Okay, I think I’m going to start using the bathrooms on the fifth floor.’

‘Trust me,’ Garcia grinned. ‘For an organization that’s all for justice, 90% of employees are so, so naughty. You should see the security footage.’

‘You know, I don’t think I really want to,’ Emily answered, cringing at the possibilities. Still, she laughed, and sunk back into the chair with a happy sigh. While she’d been apprehensive about the Girls’ Night In at first, JJ and Garcia’s presence had somehow managed to alleviate some of her anxiety about the whole situation.

Whatever happened, she’d still have her friends.

 **…**

The first shriek he heard over the phone was almost earsplitting.

Fran Morgan had been waiting a long time to hear the word “grandbaby” from her son; had been nagging him about it for over ten years now. To finally be able to tell her felt almost…liberating.

He was almost surprised to find that he was just as ecstatic as she is. When had _that_ happened? When had having a child become the most important thing in his life? It certainly hadn’t been on the horizon just over a week ago. He remembered Reid’s words from so long ago, now. From a different time altogether.

 _My mother says “girls can sense when men are changing.” When you’re ready, certain types of girls – the right kind of girls – will find you. It’s only when you’re ready, though._

It seems almost ironic that they’d been taking about Emily then, too. Maybe that wasn’t irony, then. Maybe that was fate.

He hadn’t been ready then, but a lot had changed in three years. He was older, wiser. At least he hoped so. Maybe that was why he was so happy right now. Maybe he _was_ ready for a child.

‘ _So when do I get to meet the girl that made an honest man out of my baby boy?_ ’

Morgan hesitated. It was not the easiest question to answer, for several reasons.

‘You’ve already met her,’ are the words that he decided on. ‘Emily – from my team.’

There was silence on the other end of the line. ‘ _Oh, Derek – you’re dating a colleague?_ ’

Now it was going to get _really_ awkward. ‘No, we aren’t dating. It was just a…it was a one-time thing.’ He couldn’t quite bring himself to use the words “one-night stand” about Emily. But still – not dating a pregnant colleague was worse than dating a pregnant colleague, according to his mother, and she chewed his ear off for a good few minutes before passing the phone off to one of his sisters, both of whom were at his mother’s house for dinner. Talk about timing.

‘ _So I hear you got a colleague pregnant?_ ’ Sarah asked conversationally.

‘It’s not like that,’ he argued, before realizing that as crass as it sounded, the words summed his situation up pretty well. He’d like to explain the friendship he has with Emily that made it so much more, but he couldn’t find the right way to say it. He wasn’t sure it was something he could explain.

The phone call ended with his mother insisting that she’d be flying out tomorrow, and he’d best make sure that the sofa-bed had been vacuumed for dog-hair, and really how do you expect to raise a child in a one-bedroom house, Derek, and he was almost exhausted when he hangs up. He loved his mother and sisters very much, but they could be a little too nagging sometimes.

Clooney stared up at him from the sofa, his tail wagging. ‘Hear that, buddy? Nana’s coming to town.’

The dog gave a short bark. Morgan frowned. German Shepherds were loyal dogs, good with kids, not so good with strangers. It meant he’d need to bring Emily around to meet the dog, especially considering the fact that she was going to become a big presence in his private life pretty soon. Probably not this weekend though – they’d be sick of each other before the baby even got here if they spent _too_ much time together.

‘Looks like you might need to give up your bed.’ The dog responded to that statement with a short whine, as though he knew what Morgan was saying. It wasn’t that, though – he’s whining because it was dinner time, and Morgan was doing unimportant things like calling his mother.

He grabbed a can of food from the pantry, and Clooney followed him happily to the porch, where his dish was. The German Shepherd happily eating away at some variety of doggy casserole, Morgan got himself a beer and sat on the recently vacated sofa. He’d pack his car with the tools he needed tonight, and head over to the house tomorrow morning. Knocking down walls with a sledgehammer might not do much for his confusion, but it would at least help him empty his mind for a few hours before his mother flew in. That, and he really needed to get working on the house.

Really, though, it didn’t need a whole lot of work. A couple of walls to be knocked down, some bathroom tiling to be redone, a few coats of indoor paint – those were the big things. The rest was just little touches; the things that turned it from a house into a home.

It was a good neighborhood – kids playing in front yards; parks, shops and restaurants nearby. He usually worked on houses in more rural areas, isolated enough that his sporadic renovation trips didn’t disturb anyone. Since most of the work for this house was indoors, he’d been a little more enthusiastic in signing the deed. Since Emily’s revelation, though, he’d been looking at the house in a new respect, even if he hadn’t fully realized it yet.

The morning dawned, and he packed his cooler with beer, because today would be as much about reflection and future planning as it was about renovation. Part of him considered giving Emily a call to see if she was interested in seeing the house, but he knew that she’d planned on calling her mother today, and that was not something that he wanted to intrude on, even if she’d probably need the moral support. He _would_ call her tonight, though, if only to pass on his own mother’s reaction, and to warn her of the impending visit and its implications.

Morgan did a walkthrough of the house first; it had been a few weeks since he’d been able to get to it, and he didn’t want to get started on anything without a definite plan in mind.

The house was a four bedroom/two bathroom/rumpus/spacious living area Colonial, with a few modifications here and there – a good family home.  Geographically speaking, it was around forty-five minutes from Quantico, which was no worse than his current journey, and the area was much more suited to children than either his or Emily’s current residence. Four bedrooms meant they’ve got plenty of options; they could live together without actually _being_ together; he didn’t want to subject their child to the complications of living in two different homes, and he was fairly sure that Emily didn’t either. They’d both had complicated enough childhoods. His thought process screeched to a stop when he realized the track that he was starting down. It was kind of terrifying, because he didn’t often find himself daydreaming about domestic bliss.

One of the bedrooms would be great for a nursery – close to the other bedrooms, not too big, not too small, some sunlight, but not too much. The backyard was big enough for Clooney to run around in – something that he didn’t get to do very often at all right now. It wasn’t perfect, but it was pretty damn good.

He closed his eyes, and imagined the walls painted – blue, maybe. He didn’t know the gender of the child yet, but blue felt like a good color. He imagined the crib, the changing table. He imagined Emily, feeding their baby, and he would be lying to himself if he said it wasn’t a wonderful thought. The whole team knew how loudly her biological clock was ticking, and even without considering how he related to the situation, it warmed his heart to know that she would finally be getting what she wanted.

After knocking down a wall downstairs, and finishing off some painting, it was almost three o’clock; if he left now, he’d be at Dulles just as his mother’s flight got in. Traffic wasn’t too heavy, and he found himself arriving earlier than he’d expected. It had been a few months since he’d seen his mother, so the grin he cracked when he saw her was genuine, if a little tired. It had been an exhausting morning.

‘How’s my baby boy?’ she asked wrapping an arm around him. Morgan rolled his eyes affectionately. Somehow, his mother knew just how to make him feel like he’s seven years old again.

‘Your baby boy is thirty-eight years old, mama.’ He grinned, as they walked towards the luggage carousel.

‘And he’ll still be my baby boy until there’s someone else ready to take over that title,’ she countered. ‘Which apparently, is going to be fairly soon. Speaking of which – when do I get to meet Emily?’

‘You’ve already met her,’ Morgan reminded his mother, to which she gave him the Look – that look that every mother seemed to know without ever having been taught it.

‘You know very well what I mean, Derek Morgan,’ she chastised him. ‘I met Agent Prentiss. Now I’d like to meet Emily.’

Morgan wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, mainly because he wasn’t really sure that _he_ had even met Emily. She’d opened herself up to him in recent weeks, but there was still a lot hiding behind the mask.

The drive back to his place wasn’t a silent one; his mother updated him about the state of things back home, about the Community Center, about everything else he still had back there. For the most part, he tried to steer the conversation away from Emily, but considering that when it came down to it, she was the main reason his mother had made the trip, it was somewhat difficult.

‘You should invite her around for dinner,’ his mother said decidedly. It was an oddly discomforting thought; he hadn’t brought a woman around to meet his family in a very long time, and it seemed strange that the woman that was finally going to break that pattern was one that he wasn’t even really dating.

There was no way in hell was mother was going to accept that excuse, though. Fran Morgan wasn’t stupid.

‘I’ll ask,’ he offered. ‘But I can’t guarantee that she’ll say yes.’

‘Do you love her?’ were the next words that Fran spoke, and Morgan was glad that he was driving along a fairly straight stretch of road, because he let his eyes glance towards the passenger’s seat for a split second to see if she was serious.

She was.

It was scary. Even scarier was the fact that he didn’t quite know what answer to give. He loved his teammates like they were family, but obviously, in Emily’s case, that wasn’t a metaphor he could really use anymore. He couldn’t say that the relationship he had with Emily was like the one he had with his sisters, because it had become increasingly clear lately that it was so much more than that.

How much more, he didn’t know.

But did he love her? He couldn’t answer that question just yet.

‘I respect her,’ he said instead, and he didn’t need to be looking to know that his mother had just rolled her eyes.

‘You’re obviously physically attracted to her,’ Fran started. ‘And I’d imagine that you spend a lot of time together.’

‘That’s work,’ he said shortly, unsure he liked the direction the conversation was heading. He didn’t need his mother, on top of everyone else, questioning his motives.

‘But you spent time with her outside of work too,’ she surmised.

‘Yeah, but I spend time with Reid and Garcia as well. It’s not that unusual.’

Fran shook her head. ‘You’re as bad as your father.’

There was a moment of heavy silence between them.

‘I know what I’m doing, Mom,’ he said eventually, and damned if that wasn’t the biggest lie he’d ever told in his life.

 **…**

It was almost six o’clock on Saturday evening when Emily decided that she had to bite the bullet and just call her mother. Garcia and JJ’s presence had made her feel more relaxed about the situation, for a little while, but that false sense of bravado was wearing off quickly, and soon she’d be that fifteen year old girl again, caught in the same predicament.

The situations weren’t even close to being the same; her life circumstances were a world away from what they had been, and yet she felt that her mother would be just as disapproving. Derek Morgan wasn’t a damn thing like the men that her mother tried to introduce her to. He didn’t play politics, and he wasn’t from money – new or old. He was pretty much the antithesis of what Elizabeth Prentiss had wanted for her daughter.

Once upon a time, Emily would have been thrilled at introducing her mother to someone so clearly unsuitable, but that time had long since passed. She respected her mother’s opinions, even if she didn’t always agree with them. Over the past couple of years, Emily liked to think that they’d grown closer.

Getting impregnated by a coworker wasn’t exactly the biggest political scandal of the century, but the implications of it were likely to ruffle the Ambassador’s feathers a little bit.

The phone rang once. Twice.

‘ _Hello, Emily._ ’

‘Hey mom. How are things?’

‘ _Everything’s fine, Emily. Is something wrong?_ ’

Emily almost gave an indignant snap – _I don’t only call when something’s wrong, mother_ – but then she realized that her voice was shaking like a leaf, and the Ambassador was responding just like any parent would. With concern.

‘No, uh…Everything’s…There’s nothing wrong.’ It wasn’t the most eloquent of sentences, and if nothing else, it probably cemented the suspicions inside her mother’s mind.

‘ _Emily…Tell me what’s going on._ ’

‘I’m pregnant.’

‘ _Oh, Emily, that’s wonderful news._ ’ There was the polite reaction. It was the awkward, not-quite-answerable questions that were bound to follow that Emily was worried about. ‘ _I didn’t know you were seeing anyone._ ’

‘I’m not,’ she said, teeth worrying her lip.

‘ _Oh_ ,’ was the reply, and not even all of her mother’s Ambassadorial experience could mask the disappointment. ‘ _You do, at least…know who the father is, don’t you?_ ’

Emily rolled her eyes. Sometimes she felt as though her mother was still trapped somewhere in the eighties during a time where Emily _did_ go out and drink, and do drugs, and have one night stands. Emily started to explain the situation, but was interrupted by a series of voices in the background on the other end of the line.

‘ _Just a moment, Emily_.’ Whoever the Ambassador was talking to was evidently on the receiving end of the Prentiss wrath. Emily could sympathize. She couldn’t quite make out the words, but it was clear that someone had screwed up something. ‘ _Emily, I need to go_.’

‘Sure. That’s fine,’ Emily managed to choke out, and she wasn’t entirely sure why it was so hard to admit that she wasn’t really fine about it. But still. She wasn’t surprised. All the more reason she had to evaluate her own career options. While she had never blamed her mother, it wasn’t a lifestyle she was particularly interested in giving her own child. Even if neither she, nor Morgan were ready to admit it, something was going to have to change.

No sooner than she’d ended the call with her mother, the phone rang again, the Caller I.D. flashing “Morgan, D.”

‘Hey,’ she answered. ‘Everything okay?’

‘ _Yeah. My mother flew in today; it’s her life’s goal to make sure you’re suitable for me, I think_.’

‘Well, you’re probably going to have the same problem on this end, if I ever manage to get a full conversation in.’

‘ _Fair enough_.’ He didn’t sound particularly worried. ‘ _So Mom told me to ask if you wanted to come around for dinner tomorrow night. Your first meeting wasn’t exactly in the best of circumstances._ ’

Neither of them elaborated, but then, they didn’t have to. That case was one of those ones that none of the team would ever really forget.

‘Sure,’ Emily said, a little apprehensive. Meeting Derek Morgan’s _mother_ was kind of big. This was the woman that had raised him from birth, and Emily almost felt that she was taking that away, even if there was nothing officially going on between them.

“It’s Complicated” was the official Facebook status for the situation.

‘ _I’ll cook_ ,’ he continued, which was a bit of an eyebrow raiser.

‘You can cook?’ she asked, mentally kicking herself almost immediately. _Of course he can cook, Emily. He’s a fully functional adult, not a manchild_.

‘ _I’m more than just a pretty face, Princess,_ ’ he joked, but thankfully, he didn’t sound as though her words might have insulted him.

‘That’s right,’ she said. ‘Your chest is pretty nice too.’ She frowned. Perhaps not the best response, given the situation. Still, he seemed to take the compliment in stride, even if the laugh he gave was somewhat awkward.

‘Tomorrow okay?’ she continued. ‘I’m kind of beat.’ Really, she hadn’t actually done much that day, but exhaustion came a little quicker thanks to the pregnancy. There was no guarantee that tomorrow would be any better, but at least she’d have a little time to prepare.

‘ _Sure. Sixish?_ ’ he suggested. Emily considered the point. “Sixish” meant that there would no doubt be pre-dinner conversation, and she didn’t need to guess twice to know what the conversation would be about. It sure as hell wasn’t going to be stock prices.

‘Six is fine – do you want me to bring anything?’

‘ _I think I’ve got everything we might need. Plenty of ice-cream, so you don’t need to worry about that._ ’ Emily rolled her eyes.

‘Do not make me beat you down in front of your mother, Derek,’ she told him warningly.

‘ _Are you kidding? She’d probably join in_.’

‘That’s what I’m worried about – I want this child to grow up with a father.’

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line, and Emily could have kicked herself. _Perfect thing to say to the guy that_ did _grow up without a father, Emily._ ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to—’

‘ _It’s okay_ ,’ he said, his voice soft. ‘ _I just…I know how hard it was on my mom, and I don’t want you to go through that either._ ’ The scary thing was, considering the line of work they were in, it was a very real possibility that one day, one of them might not come home.

In the fifteen years that Emily had been in the FBI, three of her colleagues had died in the line of duty. She wasn’t close to them, but it was a stark caveat that anyone could die. Guns weren’t toys, and the people that they hunted didn’t play around. Soon, they’d have to have a serious discussion regarding what to do about the work situation, but that wasn’t something that Emily wanted to do in the same week as parental visits. Too much drama was bad for the baby, after all.

Somehow, though, she got the feeling that the drama was going to come whether she liked it or not.


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Nothing in Emily’s closet seemed quite good enough.

The first time she’d met Fran Morgan, Emily had worn a pantsuit, but then, she had been on the job. Hopefully, tonight’s dinner would be less about asking invasive questions about Morgan’s personal life – at least, not _those_ kind of questions.

Maybe, if they actually _were_ together, or even if there wasn’t a baby involved, she would have taken the opportunity to ask a ridiculous amount of embarrassing questions, if only to tease Morgan about it.

She settled on a burgundy v-neck shirt, with a knee-length skirt in black. Dark stockings and low-heeled boots complemented the outfit.

On the way over, she stopped at the liquor store, intent on picking up a bottle of wine – wine that she couldn’t even drink. Even then, she had absolutely no idea what Morgan was going to cook – should she get red? White? Maybe beer would be better. In the end she decided on a nice Cabernet Sauvignon – even if it didn’t get drunk tonight, it would still be there later on.

She had never actually _been_ to Morgan’s house before, which felt kind of strange – she’d known him for four years, and yet any time they interacted outside of work, it was either at her place, or somewhere else entirely. It was interesting – Emily knew that he owned at least three other houses for renovation purposes, but the one he lived in didn’t seem particularly extravagant at all. Maybe because big houses just feel lonely if you didn’t have anyone else around – Emily could attest to that herself.

She was greeted at the gate by an enormous German Shepherd – Clooney, apparently. Morgan talked about him sometimes, but this was the first time she had actually met the dog.  She held out her hand for him to sniff, but was instead confronted with a couple of short, sharp barks.

 _Shit._

Emily didn’t exactly want to open the gate to an angry dog, but she wasn’t about to call for help, either. Luckily, she was saved from either option when the front door opened, and Morgan stepped out.

‘Clooney, down,’ he commanded, and the dog dropped quickly, giving a short whine.

‘Sorry,’ Morgan said, giving her an apologetic look. ‘I forgot – you’ve never been to my place before, have you?’

Emily shook her head. ‘No…I guess that’s a little weird.’

‘Yeah,’ he shrugged. ‘A little. He’ll still probably bark at you for a while, but after he gets used to you, you’ll only need to worry about him licking your face off and getting dog hair all over your clothes.’

‘I’ll keep that in mind.’ Both as a child and as an adult, she’d never really had time for pets. There was a point where she’d almost considered getting a cat, but the thought of being away weeks at a time had crushed that idea before it had the chance to grow.

The gate swung open, and she let Clooney sniff her hand properly. He was a little unsure about it at first, but Morgan’s presence was apparently enough to assure him that she wasn’t a person that was about to try and break in through the side window.

‘Good boy.’ She patted him on the head, and gave him a quick scratch behind the ears.

Morgan grinned. ‘See. He likes you.’

She gave him a nervous smile. Dogs were easy. People were hard. From just a single meeting, Emily could tell that Fran Morgan was very protective of her son – of all her children. Not just any girl was good enough for Derek Morgan.

Morgan opened the door to let them back inside, and Clooney tried to push past him. Morgan gave a, ‘Hey, Clooney – outside,’ and the dog stopped, giving a kind of a growling moan that was a sharp contrast to his barks from before.

‘Aw,’ Emily said, giving the Clooney another rub to the head. ‘Daddy won’t let you inside?’

‘Daddy won’t let him inside because he jumps all over Nana’s sofa-bed,’ Morgan explained.

‘Fair enough,’ Emily conceded. She stepped inside, looking around appreciatively. The house was small, but personable. Photos of his mother and sisters lined the wall, along with one of a handsome man in dress blues who she took to be his father.

He led her through to the kitchen, where Mrs. Morgan sat at the breakfast counter, watching the news on the small TV there. Emily found herself suddenly struck down by a ridiculous bout of nerves. She’d met Prime Ministers, and Princes and a ridiculous amount of Ambassadors, and yet she was not quite able to look Derek Morgan’s mother in the eye.

‘Hi,’ Emily managed, in a soft voice. She could feel her cheeks starting to flush, and wondered if the make-up she’d applied would cover it. She was completely unprepared for the bear hug that was given in response.

‘Nice to see you again, Agent Prentiss.’

‘Please, Mrs. Morgan – Emily.’

‘Only if you call me Fran.’ Emily bit her lip. She’d been brought up to address her elders by their title, rather than their first name. It still threw her, to do otherwise.

‘Of course.’ She passed the bottle of wine to Morgan, who stared at it for a moment, apparently not quite sure what to do with it. There was no wine rack that Emily could see, so he just set it down on the counter.

‘I’m making spaghetti,’ Morgan said, an announcement that led to a brief, but apparently meaningful exchange of looks between him and his mother.

‘Everything okay?’ Emily asked, torn between amusement and concern.

‘Everything’s fine,’ Morgan answered, a little too quickly. Emily raised an eyebrow. Morgan was a good profiler, but he was a terrible liar. Still, he was distracted by the cooking, which meant that Emily found herself being grilled by the woman that was to be her child’s grandmother. She’d seen Morgan get downright scary during interviews, and she wondered if he got that from his father.

No.

He got it from his mother.

It wasn’t an unpleasant interrogation, like some of her own mother’s ended up being, but it was _persistent._

‘So where did you grow up?’ The question was so innocent, and yet Emily couldn’t even _begin_ to fathom how she was going to answer it.

‘Um,’ she said finally. ‘Everywhere.’

Fran seemed confused for a moment, so Emily clarified. ‘My parents were – are – Ambassadors. We moved around a lot. I was born in Hungary, and probably lived in at least a half a dozen countries after that.’

‘Any siblings?’

Emily shook her head. ‘I preferred my own company for the most part, anyway. It wasn’t exactly easy to keep in touch with people back then, and it just seemed more convenient to not care about it.’ She bit her lip.  She had no idea why she was telling Derek Morgan’s _mother_ all of this. Maybe it was because she wanted to try and prove that she wasn’t taking advantage of her son – that she genuinely cared for him.

‘And how did you join the BAU?’

Emily bit her lip. The truth of course, was “I was brought in by the Section Chief to spy on the team,” but Morgan didn’t know that, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to tell his mother that. ‘Uh…transfer,’ she said. ‘I worked in the St. Louis Field Office for a while, and then Chicago for a few years, before coming to the BAU.’

The questions then seemed to shift away from Emily herself, and more towards the baby. Unfortunately, they weren’t exactly questions that Emily had had a chance to discuss with Morgan. Thanks to the one-time nature of their sexual encounter, she could guess due date pretty well, but otherwise, they’d have to wait until their appointment on Thursday to find out for sure.

A horrific thought crossed through Emily’s mind, that perhaps she wasn’t really pregnant at all, and the half dozen tests that she bought had been skewed by some hormone imbalance, and the vomiting was from a phantom illness. It might make their situation at work a lot easier, but damned if she didn’t dread it anyway.

The next question, though, made her forget all about that fear.

‘So when’s the wedding?’ Emily’s heart damn near stopped, and she was rendered speechless until she heard, Morgan’s response.

‘Mama, leave her alone.’ He said it with a grin, at which point Emily realized that Fran had been joking. She shook herself. Hell of a joke.

‘I’m sorry,’ Fran said, with a grin that matched her son’s. ‘The look on your face, though…’ There was a long pause. ‘I understand that you aren’t together, but you should consider what you’re going to do after the baby’s born. Raising a child is a lot harder than most people think.’

‘We know, mom,’ Derek said, a little more seriously than his words had been before. ‘We haven’t had a chance to talk about it yet.’

That wasn’t exactly true. They had spoken about it briefly, at which point they’d both come to the conclusion that the best course of action would be to move in together, but she was pretty sure that she and Morgan both were actively trying to forget about the conversation.

After all, moving in together was capital S serious. Moving in together was the kind of thing that _couples_ suggested to each other after having been together for a while. Only one of Emily’s relationships had ever reached that stage, and even then, it had failed spectacularly.

Since then, she hadn’t really tried so much. Of all the possible outcomes in her personal life, this was pretty far down the list. Above “accidentally get married to Hotch after too much alcohol in Vegas” but below “date sleazy British guy, because there’s nothing else going on in life.”

Emily thanked God for small favors then, because if it had been _Mick_ who had gotten her pregnant, she doubted things would have been the same. He was a nice enough guy, if a little arrogant, but she didn’t have the same history with him that she did with Morgan.

Apparently Fran sensed the awkwardness that the question had brought on, because she changed the subject abruptly, and Emily found herself being asked what she did in her spare time. Somehow, it seemed a little more embarrassing to admit her schedule to Morgan’s mother, even if she seemed to take it much better than Morgan himself had. Soon, they were discussing _Pride and Prejudice,_ of all things, while Morgan started to cook.

She watched him out of the corner of her eye, and if she wasn’t mistaken, he seemed a little flustered. Fran followed her gaze and gave a conspiratorial smile. That, in conjunction with the look that she’d given Morgan earlier, probably meant that there had been some discussion over the cooking aspect of the evening.

There was something about the job that wasn’t exactly conducive to cooking regular nutritional meals. Sometimes, when you were coming in at 3am after a week hunting down a sexual sadist, it was just easier to order pizza. Emily had picked up a few things over the years, whether it was as a child in an embassy kitchen, or as a sleep-deprived teenager in need of real food post finals week.

Still, she couldn’t deny that the aroma that soon filled the kitchen was amazing; Italian food always smelt the best.

‘He looks so serious,’ Emily said with a laugh, watching Morgan’s brow furrow as he tasted the sauce. He looked back at her with a somewhat amused grin, which fell away completely, when Fran said:

‘Sweetie, the pasta’s boiling over,’ at which he turned back towards the stove quickly. Emily suppressed a laugh. This was a man who kicked down doors and stared down serial killers without a single iota of fear crossing his face, but the moment he started serving out dinner, Emily noticed the nervousness that she rarely, if ever, saw in the man.

The fact that he was nervous about something like this was almost endearing. And really, there was nothing _to_ be nervous about. The pasta was a little bit overcooked, and the sauce was sweeter than she was used to, but it wasn’t as though he’d made so critical error, like adding half a cup of baking soda by mistake.

‘That was nice,’ she told him with a smile. The look on his face was caught somewhere between surprise and suspicion, as though he wasn’t entirely sure whether she was telling the truth.

‘Who wants ice-cream?’ Fran asked, standing to collect their plates. _That_ was an offer that Emily couldn’t refuse; over the past few weeks, she’d been eating a ridiculous amount of ice-cream. Still, she was somewhat relieved by the fact that her cravings had remained relatively normal. The most unusual one she could claim was peanut butter on pancakes, which was a far cry from pickles with dark chocolate, or any of the cravings that JJ had had.

Morgan hadn’t been lying: he _did_ have plenty of ice-cream. It didn’t quite mesh with her mental schema of Derek Morgan, fitness buff.

True, he did eat a lot of junk while they were on the road – all the team did – but she still couldn’t quite picture him as the kind of guy that would veg out on the sofa with a pint of Ben and Jerry’s and the remote control.

Maybe she didn’t know him that well at all.

That was the problem with being profilers; they were so intent on cataloguing each other’s behavior, while still hiding their own. For all she knew, Morgan pole danced on his off days.

 _Not very likely_ , her brain said. If nothing else, this was an opportunity to rectify that ignorance.

By the time they’d finished dessert, it was almost 8 o’clock. Not particularly late by most descriptions of the word, but then Emily found herself getting tireder earlier, as the pregnancy progressed. Or maybe it was just psychosomatic.

‘I should get going,’ she said with a yawn. Tomorrow was Monday, which meant work, and she didn’t want to tired herself out before the week had even started.

‘Thank-you for dinner,’ Emily stopped awkwardly in front of Morgan, unsure as to which gesture would be appropriate for the situation. In the end, she settled on a stiff hug, which made the situation even _more_ awkward.

‘It was nice to meet you,’ Emily said, and Fran didn’t correct her, something for which Emily was grateful. She’d much prefer to remember this as their first meeting, rather than the time in Chicago that had brought up such painful memories for Morgan.

‘I’ll walk you out,’ Morgan said decidedly, and Emily didn’t argue.

They stopped at the gate, Clooney sniffing at their hands in earnest, as though they might have had the foresight to save him some food. ‘I…I had a nice time tonight,’ Emily said. ‘Your mother’s a very nice woman.’

‘Yeah,’ he agreed.

‘I can see where you get your charm from.’ She gave a nervous laugh.

Morgan took her hand, his skin warm and soft. Part of her wondered what it would be like to hold that hand every single day.

She walked out the gate, and tried not to look back.

…

Morgan let himself back inside, a little confused. The evening had gone well, he thought – much better than he’d expected – and yet there was still a shadow of doubt that hung over him. Maybe it was the horror she’d expressed at the idea of marriage – it had seemed funny at the time, but now he was wondering whether the thought of marrying him was _really_ that terrifying.

 _She’s an Ambassador’s daughter_ , he reminded himself. The kind of girl he never thought he’d be able to get with. _She’s too good for you_ , was another fleeting thought.

 _She might be from the upper echelons of life, but she’s still the girl that can damn near drink you under the table. She’s still the girl that would sooner drink beer and watch sports than go to a dinner party._

He shook his head.

‘Everything okay?’ his mother asked, as he stepped back inside, careful to make sure that the overenthusiastic Clooney did not follow him.

‘Yeah, I guess…’ he said, very much aware of the morose tone that his words had taken on.

‘Oh, sweetie, if you were really that worried about what she thought, you should have let me cook.’

‘It’s not that,’ he said automatically, but maybe it was, a little. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want this, but at the same time, he was nowhere near ready for it, either.

‘Are you sure?’

‘I am a grown man, Mama.’

‘Which is precisely the reason you should have let me cook. You know, maybe I should have sent you to Harvard, so there was no way you could have come home for dinner every night. Maybe then you would have learned how to boil water.’

‘I can boil water, I just got a little distracted by the two beautiful women talking about me behind my back.’

Fran raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re too old to be sucking up to me like that, Derek.’ There was a long pause. ‘And if you really think that Emily’s beautiful, you should tell her that.’

‘It’s not that simple,’ he argued. He’d called a lot of women beautiful over the years – usually in the course of wooing them at the bar, or on the dance floor – and none of those times, had it ever been more than just words.

This time, it was different, because he _meant_ it.

…

Monday went quickly, all things considered. They were still off rotation, which meant paperwork, and consults, and all those other things that happened in the off hours. Privately, Emily was relieved. If they were called in on a case, then that meant she’d be stuck in some police station doing victimology, because there was no way in hell that Hotch was going to let her out in the field. Hell, there was no way that _Morgan_ was going to let her. She wouldn’t be surprised if he cuffed her to door, just to stop her from leaving.

In spite of that, though, she still found herself exhausted as she unlocked her front door.  Something told her that the next few months, she’d be feeling nothing but exhausted. Except maybe nauseous. It’d be worth it, in the end.

That’s what she kept telling herself.

No matter how awkward it was to deal with Hotch’s disapproving looks, with the threat of Strauss hanging over them, with whatever the hell it was that was happening between them…in the end, they would have a child.

The sound of her phone ringing cut through the air; it was the landline, rather than her cell, which meant that it wasn’t one of the team. For some reason, they always called her cell.

It took her a few seconds to recognize the number that Caller ID provided, even though she’d dialed it not two days ago. ‘Hey, mom.’

 _‘Hello, Emily. Are you at home?_ ’

‘Well I picked up, didn’t I?’ Emily bit on her tongue a moment too late; the words were far too bitter than was warranted. ‘I’m sorry, I just…’

‘ _Don’t be sorry, Emily – I was very busy Saturday, and I didn’t give you the attention you deserved._ ’

Emily’s eyebrow rose. All things considered, her mother hadn’t exactly given her that kind of attention in a long time, and it was rare that she actually apologized for it.

‘ _I was wondering if I could come over for coffee?_ ’

The eyebrow rose even further. “Coffee” had a very specific meaning to it. The Ambassador could have just as easily suggested dinner, but coffee implied that there would be talking, and that was something Emily wasn’t quite sure she could handle. It wasn’t that she was afraid of her mother, just that the distance between them had become so great over the years that she wasn’t entirely sure what she’d say.

What she did say was, ‘That sounds nice,’ which wasn’t exactly true, and she was pretty sure they both knew it.

She hung up the phone, and gave her condo a cursory glance-over, checking that nothing was out of place. After a beat, she decided that she didn’t particularly _care_ if anything was out of place. That was the kind of thing that hadn’t really mattered in a long time. She wondered why it had taken her so long to realize it.

Maybe it was those long forgotten memories that had her wringing her hands right up until the moment her mother knocked on the door.

It was only a couple of months since they’d last seen each other – April seemed to ring a bell – and yet the hug that Elizabeth Prentiss delivered as soon as the door opened suggested that it could have been years.

‘Mom…’ Emily started. She bit her lip, and just cherished that rare feeling of her mother’s arms around her. The Ambassador pulled away, a little stiffly.

‘Let me see you.’ She looked Emily up and down, but it wasn’t that critical kind of look that Emily was used to. ‘How far along?’

‘Um…six weeks, give or take,’ Emily said, suppressing the frown that was brewing. This was a side of her mother that she’d never really seen before, but then, all things considered, she’d never really had the opportunity to see it. Maybe, all those years ago, if things had gone differently…

Still, while she sometimes wondered what life would have been like if she’d never had the abortion, she didn’t regret it. Not in that way. She might have loved that child, but there was no way she could have been a proper mother to it. And maybe, she still felt a little guilty for not feeling that regret.

The unasked question hung heavy in the air. Obviously, the child wasn’t the result of an immaculate conception.

‘You remember my colleague,’ she started, and those words were enough for the Ambassador to arch a neatly plucked eyebrow. ‘Derek Morgan,’ Emily finished, and the eyebrow rose further. She vaguely wondered whether Hotch or Rossi or even _Reid_ would have been seen as a more acceptable suitor.

‘Of course,’ Elizabeth said smoothly, and there was no lie in her voice. After all, diplomats relied on remembering names and faces and…usefulness.

‘He’s the father,’ Emily said bluntly; there was no amount of cushioning that would salvage the situation. ‘Why don’t I make that coffee,’ she suggested; the kitchen wouldn’t be much of an escape, but it was better than standing there awkwardly. In lieu of anything else, Emily said, pulling mugs down from the cupboard, ‘My first sonogram’s on Thursday.’

‘Have you discussed…arrangements?’ Emily almost rolled her eyes. The question wasn’t an unexpected one, but she was still a little resentful that it had been asked without Morgan there to back her up. Maybe it was better that way – after all, he didn’t know Elizabeth Prentiss the way Emily did.

‘Not yet,’ Emily said, adding, before the Ambassador could say anything, ‘We’re taking things slowly.’ It wasn’t the best word choice, considering that “taking things slowly” didn’t exactly fit well with “impregnation during one night stand.”

Emily didn’t need to look to know that her mother’s lips were pursed – that she was holding back any criticism with every fiber of her being. After all, even in this day and age, children with out of wedlock pregnancies weren’t exactly stellar for any politician’s career, even if the child did happen to be almost forty.

‘Have you told your father yet?’

Emily stopped. She’d been hoping to avoid that particular topic, considering the relationship that she had with her father could be considered even worse than the one that she had with her mother. It wasn’t that he was a bad person, or even a bad father – he’d just never really been around a lot. Considering the turbulences of her childhood, and the absences of her mother, that was _really_ saying something.

She shook her head. ‘To be honest, I don’t even know where he is right now.’

‘I’ll make sure he’s here when we go to dinner this weekend,’ Emily’s mother assured her, and Emily blinked.

‘Dinner?’ she asked.

‘Of course,’ Elizabeth said smoothly. ‘You don’t think I’ll let you get away with keeping the father of your child in the dark, do you? I’d like to talk to him.’

Emily had the sudden mental image of Derek handcuffed to a chair in a darkened interrogation room, gaunt and terrified.

‘He’s not harboring state secrets, mother,’ Emily said, exasperated.

‘No, but he is one of my daughter’s suitors, which is arguably a far worse crime.’ While there was some tone of amusement in her mother’s voice, Emily still wasn’t quite sure whether to accept the situation for what it was, or pack a bag and run away to Egypt.

 _Running away from problems never makes them easier_ , said a voice inside her head. Especially, she thought, especially considering the fact that there was a long list of people ready to drag her home before she even made it to the airport.

‘Saturday night,’ Elizabeth instructed, in a voice that made grown men shiver in fear. ‘Eight o’clock.’

She almost pitied Derek.


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

She woke up early on the day of the sonogram and it was a little hot, but not uncomfortably so. She was sweating anyway, from nerves more than anything else. In Italy, she’d never had a prenatal appointment – the risk of her mother finding out would have been far too high. In any case, back then, she’d never actually considered the possibility of keeping the child. Now, she hadn’t even considered the possibility of _not_ keeping it.

She showered and dressed carefully, wearing a loose t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that could be adjusted easily for the transducer. She didn’t particularly feel like eating, but skipping breakfast was a pretty big no-no.

Even taking her time, she was still pretty early – Morgan was meeting her here at eleven for a midday appointment, and it was only nine a.m. Normally she’d be at work by now, chugging down a coffee and groaning at the abundance of paperwork that somehow managed to find its way into her inbox. That was tomorrow’s agenda, only probably without the coffee. It was an agenda that would probably involve trying to deflect the questions of other agents; the office rumor mill was so efficient, that she’d be pretty damn surprised if the story hadn’t made it around the entire unit by now. She only hoped that Hotch had gotten to Strauss before the news had made it to the Section Chief’s office. At the same time, she felt a little guilty, because in her mind there was absolutely no doubt of the fact that her blatant violation of protocol would result in Strauss attempting to rip Hotch a new one. She never really trusted the woman – not after the events surrounding her induction into the BAU.

 _All for nothing, now_ , part of her was thinking.

She found herself falling asleep on the sofa, which was unsurprising, considering she’d spend most of the night before in an uncharacteristic state of insomnia.  Over the course of the last three years, she’d gotten used to falling asleep at whatever available opportunity, whether it was at three a.m after a grueling case, or at two o’clock in the afternoon on the flight back home.

It was almost ten thirty when she jerks herself back to wakefulness. According to what she’d read, she needed to have a full bladder for the ultrasound, which meant at least half a gallon in the ninety minutes leading up to the appointment. It was a reminder of the changes that she’d need to make to her lifestyle – not all of them big changes, but changes nonetheless. She let a hand run along the waistband of her sweatpants. Soon enough, she’d have to start buying some clothes from the Maternity section.

It was difficult to be intimidating when you’re bulging at the waistline. She thought of herself in six months time, going crazy sitting around a local police station, while the rest of the team went on a raid. She wasn’t used to being left behind – not like that, at least. The fact that Morgan’s “tackle anything that moves” attitude would be unchanged by her predicament raised the slightest bit of resentment.

It was really not the time to be thinking about that, though. Things would be hard enough without bringing unfounded indignation into the equation.

He was knocking on her door almost twenty minutes later, and she got up, feeling the fullness of her bladder. It was pretty uncomfortable, but it was a necessary evil, like so many of the discomforts that she was going to encounter in the next nine months. Hell, in the next eighteen _years_ , because childbirth sure as hell didn’t finish just because you had the child. One step at a time though.

‘Hey,’ he greeted her, with an air of casualness. He was wearing jeans and a dark t-shirt, and every little thing indicated that he was trying to be as relaxed as possible, only the look in his eyes gave him away. They were so expressive that even when he’s trying to hide something, it was still there, lurking in dark irises.

He was just as scared as she was, and in a way, that made her even more terrified. She thought it was kind of strange, though, in a way.  He could stare down unsubs, tackle moving trains…what happened that made him so afraid of bringing life into the world? It wasn’t just the job – every single bit of her profiler instinct was screaming that it was more than that. It was something else.

But it wasn’t exactly the time to ask.

There was going to be enough awkwardness without bringing secret pasts into the mix; she didn’t exactly make a habit of inviting colleagues – or even friends – along to her doctors’ appointments, even if he was the reason she was seeing a doctor in the first place.

Well, not the whole reason; she wasn’t a robot. She could take responsibility for her own actions.

Derek Morgan was _part_ of the reason she was in this mess.

Still…

She gave him a smile, and said ‘Hey,’ back, in that casual nonchalant voice that reflected her own façade.

‘Ready to go?’

She nodded, slinging her bag over her shoulder. Time to get it over and done with. The first hump. Maybe after today, things would start getting easier.

She figured she was fooling herself, or at least trying to. The job alone would be one hell of a bumpy road. Hotch’s reaction had been bad enough; she didn’t even want to think about what Strauss will say. Part of her was expecting to wake up one morning and find a severed horse’s head in bed next to her, which was ridiculous, really. She didn’t even own a horse.

The ride down in the elevator was silent; usually, they’d talk about books, or movies, or, on some occasions, sport, but the friendship they built up seemed to have taken a sick day, and it was almost as though they were complete strangers. Complete strangers who were having a kid together. It got to the point where she brought up something completely unrelated to the situation, just to avoid the awkwardness.

He was evidently not as enthusiastic about the dystopian implications of artificial intelligence as she was, but he held his own, and in any case, it hadn’t really been about the subject matter. It was like someone had thrown a lever, and suddenly they just couldn’t talk to each other properly at all. That big lever of awkwardness known as pregnancy.

The waiting room of the OBGYN’s office was filled with a variety of people; some women alone, some with partners, some in various stages of pregnancy, some just there for a check-up. Emily felt weird, as if she was a completely different person.

Even after hoping for it for so long, she’d really never expected this.

There were a dozen or so magazines scattered across the coffee table; Emily grabbed a six-month old issue of _National Geographic_. Morgan picked up _Vogue._

Emily raised her eyebrow. ‘You’re going to ogle, aren’t you?’

‘Well seeing as you took the only magazine I can read without getting embarrassed, it’s either that, or sitting around doing nothing. Why?’ he grinned. ‘You jealous?’

Emily gave a short laugh. ‘No. Considering where we are, I’d say I got the better end of the deal.’

‘So you don’t regret it?

She paused, not sure how to best answer that question. ‘I want this,’ she said slowly. ‘I didn’t really want it to happen this way, but it did, and I don’t regret that much.’ The situation was starting to get a little melancholy, so she adds, ‘It was really good sex, too.’

He grinned at that. ‘Yeah, well. I think we can both agree on that one.’

Emily shook her head slightly. Of all the places to have this discussion, the waiting room of the OBGYN’s office before their first ultrasound was definitely not one of the best.

Fortunately, discussion of other serious matters was saved for later, because her name was called, and she was aware of eyes on her as they stood, following the doctor into the exam room. It was a new doctor – in the time that she’d been in D.C., the job had kept her far too busy to schedule the appointments that she really should be having. Still – pap smears and mammograms were, like regrets, subjects best discussed at a later time.

Her bladder was painfully full as she sat down, and Morgan seemed to mistake the pained expression on her face for nerves. The nerves were there too, but really, she just needed to pee. The doctor – Doctor Lowe, she’d introduced herself as – seemed to sense this, and worked with the ultrasound technician to get the sonogram done.

‘The first sonogram is to confirm the pregnancy and to determine the due date,’ Lowe explained. ‘We can schedule the rest of your pre-natal appointments afterwards.’ She made a note on her clipboard.

‘First child?’ the tech asked conversationally, as Emily lifted her shirt so that the gel could be applied to her stomach. Emily’s heart skipped a beat, but she was saved from answering by the tech’s toothy grin, and her addendum; ‘You can always pick out the first time parents.’

To avoid looking at Morgan, Emily instead stared down at her stomach. She can’t even see a bump there – according to the internet reading that she’d done, the embryo (not even a fetus yet) was barely four millimeters long. The thought that in a little less than eight months, there would be a near full-grown _baby_ inside of her was incredible.

The image came up on the screen, a little surreal and she panicked for a second, because she couldn’t make out anything that looked like an embryo on there, and she’d read about hysterical pregnancies, and maybe she wasn’t pregnant after all, but then Lowe pointed out a tiny white smudge, that looked more like a blip on the screen than her flesh and blood.

Her hand was gripping Morgan’s tightly, and she had tears in her eyes, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to care.

‘You’re around six weeks along,’ Lowe told them, which Emily already knew – having had sex once in the last six months had its advantages, however limited.

The tech printed out a copy of the sonogram for them, and Emily excused herself to use the bathroom. She returned with a mercifully empty bladder, following Doctor Lowe to another room in the clinic.

Lowe sat at her desk, reading something off the screen of her computer. ‘Now your records are a little spotty, but I understand this is your first pregnancy?’

Emily’s breath caught in her throat.

‘I, um…’ She hesitated, not quite sure how to put it. It wasn’t the Doctor’s reaction she was worried about, it was Morgan’s. ‘No. Second pregnancy. I had an abortion. It, uh…it wasn’t the most legal of procedures, so I doubt it’s in there,’ she added – a little unnecessarily, considering she knew there was no record, but it felt like the right thing to say.

‘I see.’ There was a long, awkward silence, punctuated only by the sound of Lowe’s fingernails against the keyboard. Emily’s eyes were closed, and she could feel the tears starting to escape her ducts. Looking at Morgan is the last thing she wanted to do.

‘Emily…’ he started, his voice low, a little warbly.

‘Stop,’ she told him sharply. ‘Can we not talk about this right now?’

He didn’t say anything to that.

‘What year was this?’ Lowe asked, and while Emily knew that it was for the benefit of her own health, it still felt uncomfortable telling this to _anyone_.

‘1987…June, I think. In Italy.’ Morgan let out a slight cough, and she knew that he was doing the math in his head.

Emily opened her eyes to see Lowe nodding, a look of sympathy on her face. ‘This factor, in addition to your age, could have some impact on the health of the fetus.’ Emily gave a grim smile – it was painful to hear that her youthful indiscretions might cause her to lose a child – _another_ child – but it wasn’t something she could ignore.

They went through a number of other things – last menstrual period, height, weight, blood pressure, and a near laundry list of related factors. Emily was almost about to hand over her credentials so that Lowe could write down her badge number, but thankfully, it was over before that happened.

‘5th of February is your expected due date,’ Lowe told them. ‘But I expect I’ll be seeing you a few times before then. Congratulations.’

Emily booked another appointment with the secretary while Morgan waited outside, and she took advantage of the few moments alone to try and swallow her nausea. One part of her was elated, because she had a sonogram of her baby clutched in her hand, and part of her just wanted to throw up, because she had never, ever revealed so much to one of her colleagues before in her life.

No matter that said colleague was the father of her child, or that he was the first person in a long time that had seen her bedroom. It felt like a violation, and there was nothing she could do to change that.

When she got outside, Morgan had a distant look on his face, and it didn’t take a genius – or a profiler – to figure out what he was thinking about. She took a deep breath, ready for whatever he had to say, but it didn’t come.

‘Did you want to get some lunch?’ he asked, and Emily opened her mouth to refuse, but then realized that she was starving. Eating for two, or something like that. There was a specific nutritional plan that she needed to sort out, but her mind was way too scattered. Maybe Reid would be interested in doing it – he was the only person she could think of that might have any idea about what foods would give her the recommended six extra grams of protein, or whatever it was supposed to be.

They found a diner, where Emily ordered chicken soup, because she didn’t quite trust someone else to wash her lettuce properly. She didn’t mind chicken soup so much, but it looked like gruel compared to the hamburger with fries that Morgan ordered. She stole half of his fries anyway, because moderation was key.

They managed to avoid the topic for a grand total of thirty-seven minutes. It wasn’t until they were back in the car that Morgan finally said, ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

There were so many possible answers to give, but she settled on, ‘It wasn’t important,’ which apparently was _not_ the answer that he’d wanted to hear.

‘It “wasn’t important”?’ he asked, his voice low. ‘You’re having my child, how is that not important?’

‘So what was I supposed to say?’ she argued. ‘“Hey, Morgan, I’m pregnant, and by the way, I had an illegal abortion when I was fifteen, just thought you should probably know”? It might surprise you to learn this, Derek, but there’s a lot of stuff that happened in my childhood that I haven’t told the team about, and quite frankly, it’s my own damn business whether I choose to tell your or not.’ There were tears in her eyes again, and this time, she cursed the overabundance of hormones that were coursing through her body. In lieu of any other available option, she moved to the door handle.

‘Emily, what are you doing?’ Morgan asked, his voice sounding tired and…sad.

‘I think it’d be better if I caught a cab.’

‘Emily…I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean to snap at you. It was just…unexpected.’

Emily gave a hollow laugh. Unexpected was definitely the right word for the situation. ‘I’m sorry, too,’ she said, a little more somberly.

There was a moment of silence.

‘Does anyone else know?’

‘Rossi,’ she shrugged. ‘Not by preference – he was just in the right place, right time. Or…wrong place, wrong time. However you want to look at it. It’s not something I like to talk about.’ She figured that he could relate to that well enough, and, to his credit, he didn’t ask any more questions.

The entire trip home she spent running her thumb over the sonogram image. This was the future. Her child. _Their_ child.

He walked her upstairs, and they hesitated at the doorway. She didn’t want their relationship to turn into something built on awkwardness.

‘Did you want coffee?’

‘That’d be nice,’ he agreed, and Emily was pretty sure they both knew that the coffee wasn’t the reason he was coming inside. She put the kettle on and found two cups, as well as the tea bags that had been hiding away at the back of pantry. Mostly, she ran on coffee, but that wasn’t much of an option anymore.

They all had their past traumas that everyone pretended not to know about; Hotch had his father, Reid had his mother’s illness, Morgan had Carl Buford. Emily had Italy. She really didn’t want to talk about it, but at the same time, she knew she had to.

As they sat down on her sofa in front of the TV, she started on what felt like a long story. ‘I lived in maybe four different countries by the time I was ten years old. Every time I got used to one, my mother would be transferred. She told me that it was her way of moving up in the world, but I was a kid, I didn’t really care about that. It’s not easy to make friends when you’re the new kid. Especially if you end up being the new kid every two years. Most of the time I just kept to myself, but then…then I became a teenager. After a lifetime of being ignored, sometimes you’ll do anything just to be accepted.’

There was an awkward silence.

‘Do you remember the exorcism case?’ as though they would ever really forget a case. Especially not _that_ case.

‘Sure,’ Morgan nodded.

‘John Cooley – the victim we saved. He was my first boyfriend. We were young, and we were American teens in a foreign country with limited supervision. Things didn’t exactly end well.’ He nodded, but didn’t say anything, silence hanging over them like the sword of Damocles. “Things didn’t end well” was putting it pretty freaking lightly.

‘After I told him…he didn’t want anything to do with it. He told me his parents would kill him, and then he ignored me for the next three months, as if that would make the problem go away.’ She noticed Morgan’s knuckles gripping his coffee mug tightly, as though he wanted to punch something – preferably, John Cooley’s face. Emily had had that feeling many times over the past twenty-five years. ‘Our friend – Matthew – he took me to see our priest. If you think religious dogma is big here, then try talking to a Catholic priest about teen pregnancy in Rome. It’s not pretty.’

She shook her head, eyes closed. ‘The church was Matthew’s whole life, and yet he let go of everything to help me. After that, he wasn’t the same. His parents blamed me for his death…The thing is, I’m pretty sure they were right to.’

‘That is bullshit,’ he told her frankly, and his voice was somehow cold and heartwarming at the same time. ‘His _parents_ were the ones that called in a priest. They thought they could solve their son’s problems with an exorcism. He was sick, and they went about curing him in one of the worst ways possible. That is not your fault.’

‘He wouldn’t _be_ sick if it weren’t for me,’ Emily said, letting her eyes cast downwards. She was so sure that if she looked upwards, into his eyes, she would see the same blame in them that she saw in everyone else’s.

‘I know what it’s like to blame yourself for something you had no control over, and I know that no matter what I say, it’s going to be there for the rest of your life. But for what it’s worth you are one of the best, one of the most wonderful people that I know, and nothing is going to change that.’ He set down his coffee mug and shifted on the sofa, pulling Emily into a hug. She was a little startled at first, but relished the warmth of his arms around her.

‘I don’t usually cry this much,’ she murmured. ‘It’s not a particularly…proud moment of my life, so I don’t really talk about it.’

‘I’m sorry for pushing you,’ he replied, and yet she knew that he would do it again in a heartbeat. That was just who he was. ‘And while we’re on the topic of hidden secrets,’ he added, ‘Reid wasn’t the one that broke your coffee cup last month.’

Emily raised an eyebrow, extricating herself from his arms. ‘Oh, so you were just willing to let him take the blame.’ In spite of the confession, she was grinning, knowing full well that he was trying to lighten the mood.

‘And I only ever do five hundred sit-ups a day, max. I guess part of me was trying to impress you.’

‘Huh.’ That confession was a little bit unexpected. Mostly because he was pretty much admitting that he’d had a crush on her at one point.

‘Well, how much iron you can pump doesn’t impress me, FYI,’ she told him with a wink. ‘Being able to put up a solid argument for your favorite Doctor would impress me. Which, by the way – Troughton. Though Smith is definitely growing on me.’

Emily laughed at the ridiculously confused look on his face, and punched him lightly on the arm. ‘I keep telling you, I am a complete _nerd_. I just don’t show it as much as Reid does.’

‘Well I think things might start getting a little weird if you acted like Reid,’ Morgan commented, and at first Emily wasn’t quite sure whether or not she was supposed to take it as a compliment, but Morgan wasn’t exactly the kind of person to say something malicious in that way.

‘I promise to keep the Star Wars quotes to a minimum,’ she told him solemnly. ‘Nerf herder.’

Morgan turned to face her, eyebrow raised. ‘Excuse me?’

‘You heard me,’ Emily grinned. Her heart skipped a beat. Morgan’s face was just inches from hers, and part of her wanted nothing more than to just kiss him. If that didn’t make things awkward, though, she didn’t know what would. The reason their first time had worked so well was because neither of them had been under any kind of delusion. There was attraction, of course, but the circumstances were all wrong.

In another life, maybe. If they’d met under different circumstances, without the twin hurdles of work and their friendship blocking the way, maybe it could have worked out. Then again, maybe not. Love was as much about luck and timing as it was about hard work.

Whether they were plagued by good luck or bad luck, Emily wasn’t entirely sure. Maybe if they’d hooked up when she first joined the team, they’d have already started their family by now. Maybe they would have had a nasty break-up, and vowed never to speak to each other again.

There were a million other ways it could have gone, and yet she was kind of happy that it had gone this way. The friendship that they’d built up made the foundations for…whatever this was, so much stronger, and the fact that they worked together meant that they both _understood_.

They understood what it meant to work until three in the morning, hunting down a serial arsonist. They understood why sometimes, talking was the last thing on each other’s minds after a long case. They understood why being in a serious, long term relationship was such an issue for people like them.

Emily’s thought process came to a screeching halt, as she realized that she was seriously considering the possibility of entering into an actual relationship with Derek Morgan.

It wasn’t just because of the practical advantages, though there were quite a few; being together meant that they wouldn’t need to sort out custody agreements, or who was doing what where, for Christmas, or Easter, or Thanksgiving. More than that, though, being with him felt natural – even before the pregnancy, he’d been there for her when she needed it; a rock in the wild, stormy ocean that her life had the tendency to become.

Somehow, the revelation didn’t exactly make things easier. What if Morgan didn’t want any of that? He was willing to stand by her, but what if he wasn’t ready to commit to that? What if he didn’t want to be the one to feed the baby at three o’clock in the morning and then rock them back to sleep? What if he just wanted to be the guy that took their son to football games on weekends?

No. She wasn’t going to let her hopes get dashed before they’d even had a chance to settle.

Not this time.


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

‘How did it go?’ Reid asked, as Morgan set his bag underneath the desk. For one brief, horrifying moment, Morgan wondered whether Emily had been lying, and he’d been the only member of the team that _didn’t_ know what had happened to her in Italy.

 _That’s stupid_ , his mind rationalized. Reid wanted to know how the obstetrician appointment went, not how the discussion of long hidden secrets had impacted the day.

In spite of himself, he broke into a grin. ‘It went well.’ He dug around in the front pocket of his bag, and found the ultrasound image. ‘What you’re looking at there is the offspring of Derek Morgan.’

‘Technically,’ Reid started, ‘The process of conception utilizes the DNA of both the father _and_ the mother.’ He had that smug smile on his face that let Morgan know he was joking.

‘And it’s a good thing, too,’ Emily said, as she entered the bullpen. ‘Could you imagine a carbon copy of Derek Morgan running around? It’d be _terrifying._ ’ She was smiling, which meant that she didn’t really find the idea _too_ terrifying. That comforted Morgan just a little.

Emily didn’t stay at her desk long, grabbing a manila folder from the top of a pile, and claiming that she had to go over a file with Hotch. There was a small, kind of paranoid part of him that wondered whether maybe she was intentionally avoiding him after yesterday’s revelation. He felt bad for reacting so negatively, but the news had come from out of nowhere. Considering their circumstances, he got the feeling that it wasn’t the last secret to be spilled over the course of the next few months.

Whether he liked it or not (and really, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it) the pregnancy was drawing them closer and closer together.

 _If that’s the case_ , he thought to himself, _then you_ really _need to learn how to cook._

 _How the hell am I supposed to do that?_

‘In species that reproduce sexually, the offspring’s chromosomes are passed on by both the mother and the father.’

‘Reid,’ Morgan interjected, stopping the diatribe before it really even had a chance to start. The day before yesterday it had been the history of bacon. Today it was chromosomes.

Morgan found a thought brewing in his mind.

‘Hey Reid,’ he said slowly. ‘Do you know how to cook?’

Reid’s words took on a tone that was a little more somber than his “information dump” voice. ‘I mostly cooked for myself growing up.’

Morgan could have kicked himself. He really need to stop bringing up sore topics. ‘I’m sorry, Reid, I didn’t mean to…’

‘It’s alright,’ Reid assured him. ‘My mother did have her lucid moments, but on the whole I found it more beneficial to learn myself. It also gave me a chance to put the books I’d read on French cuisine to good use.’ There was a slight lilt to his voice now, and Morgan knew that he was being toyed with, if only slightly.

‘Do you think you could…I don’t know…teach me?’ He gave a quick glance up to Hotch’s office, where he could see Emily through the open blinds.

‘Teach you?’ Reid frowned.

‘Not like…an intense course or anything. It’s just…’ He hesitated. ‘I don’t want my kid eating pizza every night because I don’t know how to make meatloaf.’

‘Well you could also make pizza,’ Reid pointed out. ‘Typically, anything you order from a fast food restaurant has a lot more fat and processed ingredients than what you could make in your own home.’

Morgan frowned. He wasn’t exactly sure whether that was supposed to be a yes or a no. With Reid it was a little hard to tell sometimes. ‘So is that a yes?’ Morgan asked, just to clarify.

‘Yes,’ Reid said, adding, with a slight frown. ‘I don’t really do that much in my spare time anyway.’

‘Now _that_ needs to be amended,’ Morgan grinned. ‘I’ll tell you what. You teach me to cook, and I’ll show you how to renovate a house.’

Reid stared at him. ‘You mean with…powertools?’ He frowned. ‘I don’t know…I mean – aren’t they kind of dangerous?’

‘Not if you know how to use them,’ Morgan said. ‘It’s not like we’re going to be juggling chainsaws. Besides,’ he added with a wink. ‘Chicks dig a guy that knows how to use a drill.’

Reid didn’t seem particularly keen on the idea, so Morgan dropped it momentarily. If nothing else, he’d found someone to teach him how to cook.  The conversation came to a halt as Emily returned from Hotch’s office.

‘Hey,’ she said, perching herself on the edge of Morgan’s desk. ‘I’m going to go show Garcia the picture – you want to come?’

‘For back-up?’ Morgan queried.

‘Of course,’ Emily replied with a grin. ‘If you think I’m going into Garcia’s lair with a picture of a child without someone watching my back, then you’ve got another thing coming. I’ll suffocate from all the hugging.’

‘Oh my _God_ , it’s so cute,’ were the first words out of Garcia’s mouth, as she wrapped Emily in a tight hug. Morgan shot Emily a glance, noting the part amused, part terrified look on her face.

‘He’s not even an inch long yet, baby girl,’ Morgan reminded his friend. ‘Cute’s probably not the right word.’

Garcia shot him a look. ‘Not cute? I’ll tell you what I see when I look at this picture, Derek Morgan. I see you rocking your tiny baby to sleep. I see Emily dressing her up in the perfect pink dress that I found on sale. I see him blowing out the candles of his fifth birthday cake. I see you both crying at graduation—’

‘Garcia,’ Emily interjected, before the technical analyst could get any further. ‘It’s okay. Trust me, we are both definitely thinking those things. Just…maybe not in quite so much detail.’

 _I think someone needs to warn Kevin of his inevitable impending fatherhood,_ Morgan thought to himself.

They excused themselves before the squeeing got too out of control, and Morgan couldn’t help but echo Emily’s sigh as they headed back towards the bullpen.

‘I love Garcia,’ Emily said. ‘I really do. But now I kind of understand how JJ feels.’

‘Maybe we should have saved the presentation until the end of the day, when she was a little more exhausted.’

‘Are you kidding?’ Emily scoffed. ‘We would have been hunted down and ambushed if we didn’t show up by ten.’

‘You’re probably right.’

It was the team’s last day off rotation – as soon as they came back to work on Monday, any active cases were fair game. For today, though, it was more paperwork.

Morgan was almost looking forward to Monday, even if he knew Emily wasn’t quite as enthusiastic. Like him, she preferred being out in the field to sitting around the police station going over victimology.

At the very least, though, it made it feel as though some things were slowly making their way back to normal. Even if _other_ things would be changing permanently.

…

Derek Morgan adjusted his tie in the mirror for what felt like the hundredth time. As per Emily’s request, he was wearing his best suit, with a charcoal gray shirt and black tie. It was the kind of outfit he’d worn during his time as interim Unit Chief, only somehow it seemed so insignificant. Instead of an experienced FBI agent, he felt very much like the kid from a poor Chicago neighborhood that grew up on the wrong side of the tracks. Emily Prentiss was everything that he wasn’t.

Her mother would see that, and Morgan was pretty sure that all of his charm wouldn’t be enough to stop the disapproval.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Emily had told him, when he’d expressed his doubts about meeting her mother for dinner. ‘She might be an Ambassador, but she isn’t elitist.’ The words hadn’t comforted him in the least, especially considering the way she wouldn’t quite look him in the eyes when she’d said it. Especially considering the fact that she hadn’t even mentioned her father, beyond saying that he would be there too.

‘What do you think, buddy?’ he asked Clooney, who was lying by the door to the bathroom. The dog looked up at him, oblivious to the severity of the situation.

Morgan checked his watch, noting that it was getting close to 7. He was picking up Emily, and they were meeting her parents at the restaurant for an 8 o’clock reservation. It was a far cry from the evening when Emily had met his own mother. That had been casual, informal. Now, Morgan had that awkward feeling in the back of his mind that was going to be sent off to a firing squad if he didn’t prove worthy.

The drive to Emily’s condo was short, thanks to the light traffic. When he knocked on the door, he heard a hurried, ‘Just a second,’ from inside. In Morgan’s experience, “just a second” often meant “I’ll be ready in half an hour” but when the door opened thirty seconds later, Emily was fully dressed.

Morgan stared. She was wearing a black, strapless dress, with her hair pinned to one side. The fabric hugged her body tightly, and he could see the small baby bump that nobody would have noticed unless they knew it was there.

‘You’re staring,’ Emily said.

‘Yeah,’ he admitted. ‘You look…amazing.’

‘So do you,’ she smiled, the expression turning to a slight grimace after a few seconds. ‘Are you ready?’

‘When you are.’

‘Alright,’ Emily nodded. ‘Just let me grab my bag.’

They were in the car and on their way in less than ten minutes, which felt like some kind of record for Morgan. He didn’t put Emily in the same category as he did his previous dates, which was mostly due to the fact that they weren’t technically dating. In all honesty, though, part of him kind of _did_ want them to be dating.

‘You should have worn a bow tie,’ Emily said suddenly, with what sounded like a laugh in her voice.

He was driving on a straight stretch of road, so he took the opportunity to shoot a confused look at her. ‘I thought you said it didn’t matter if I didn’t wear a tux.’

‘I know,’ Emily shrugged. ‘It doesn’t. Bow ties are just cool. I’m buying you a bow tie,’ she said decidedly.

Morgan frowned. ‘Is this some nerd thing again?’

‘Absolutely,’ Emily said with a grin.

‘Uh huh. Care to enlighten me?’

‘Where’s the fun in that?’

‘You’re evil, you know that?’

‘If I was evil,’ Emily said. ‘I would have told you that it was going to be a Hawaiian shirt dinner.’

‘Touché.’

A few minutes of silence followed, before Morgan finally asked, ‘So what’s your Dad like?’ In his peripheral vision, he saw Emily freeze. ‘I mean…’ he continued hastily. ‘You’ve never really talked about him.’

‘There’s a reason for that,’ Emily said, and Morgan couldn’t quite interpret her tone. It seemed like some mix between sadness and bitterness, with the slightest hint of regret. Maybe he was completely off base.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said quickly, not particularly wanting to open another can of worms. ‘I didn’t mean to…’

‘No, it’s nothing like that,’ Emily assured him. ‘It’s just…with his job, he was never exactly around. He was never really a father to me. In fact, I’ll be surprised if he even shows up tonight.’

‘What does he do?’

‘If I told you, I’d have to kill you,’ Emily deadpanned.

‘Would you really want to do that?’ Morgan asked, a smile creeping back onto his face.

‘No.’ She sighed dramatically. ‘Who else is going to rub my feet?’

‘Well,’ he reasoned. ‘Reid has magician’s fingers, and I’m sure he’s read a few thousand books on the proper foot rubbing techniques.’

‘The magic touch isn’t something that can be learned from books alone,’ she assured him. ‘It’s like the Force – you have it, or you don’t. Not just anyone can become a Jedi foot masseur.’

‘Well I guess we’ll have to find out whether or not I have the “magic touch.”’

‘I guess we will.’

Morgan could sense that Emily was trying to lighten the mood, but he still couldn’t prevent that feeling of uneasiness that grew inside of him as he parked the car.

‘Morgan.’ Emily stopped in front of him, and he couldn’t quite help but think how beautiful she looked in the moonlight. ‘You are one of the best men that I know. You… _kick_ criminal ass.’ Her hand brushed his cheek. ‘You don’t have anything to worry about. My parents aren’t idiots.’

Her face was just inches away, and it seemed like it would have been the easiest thing in the world to just lean in and kiss her. But he didn’t. Of all the possible times to change the status of their relationship, this was probably one of the worst.

The restaurant was probably the most extravagant one that Morgan had ever been to. It wasn’t the fact that he couldn’t afford it – while he didn’t renovate houses to turn a profit, he still usually made one – more so that black tie and cocktail dress affairs weren’t really his thing. The closest he ever really got was the FBI Christmas parties.

The maître-d’ directed them towards a table near the back of the restaurant where Emily’s parents were already seated. Morgan recognized the dark-haired woman that had once come to the BAU for assistance – tonight, she look far less frazzled than she had on the occasion of their first meeting. In a long black dress, he could see the resemblance between mother and daughter – they both had the same slim body type, the same perfect posture.

The grey haired man stood, holding his hand out for Derek to shake, as Emily greeted her mother with a kiss to the cheek. ‘Victor Prentiss,’ he said, adding, ‘Emily’s father,’ as if it wasn’t obvious. He was about an inch taller than Morgan, and he had Emily’s dark eyes.

‘Derek Morgan.’ Morgan took the hand, shaking it firmly. Then, he moved around to Emily’s mother. ‘Ambassador Prentiss. It’s nice to see you again.’

‘And you, Agent Morgan.’

All things considered, dinner went smoothly. There were no embarrassing revelations, or improper cutlery usage, or accidentally choking on appetizers.

Not long after she’d finished her main course, Emily stood. ‘I’m going to the bathroom,’ she announced, in an apologetic voice that made it patently clear that she’d been holding it in for as long as possible to avoid leaving him alone.

‘I think I’ll join you,’ the Ambassador said, and Emily’s expression shifted to what might have been horror. Whether that was horror at the thought of having a conversation with her mother, or the thought of leaving Morgan alone with her father, he wasn’t quite sure, but he had his money on the latter.

The other man’s behavior was calm – almost subdued – and yet there was an air about him that suggested if they were to somehow get into a fight, Morgan would get his ass kicked, black belt or no.

‘I find myself asking,’ Victor said, fingers curling around the step of his wine glass. ‘What your intentions are towards my daughter.’

‘I will be there for her,’ Morgan replied automatically. ‘And I will be there for our child.’

‘Do you intend to marry her?’ Victor asked, with an intense gaze that reminded him so much of Emily’s.

Morgan hesitated. ‘I’m not sure she’d have me,’ he said eventually, which was technically the truth. In addition to that, though, he wasn’t quite sure if _he_ was ready for marriage.

Apparently, though, the answer was acceptable. ‘Emily’s a smart girl,’ Victor said. ‘And yet somehow she’s always had terrible taste in boyfriends.’ He gave a small smile. ‘I’m glad she’s finally gotten it right.’

Emily’s parents didn’t linger – they both had work to do, apparently, though they left in separate cars. Morgan hadn’t asked about the status of their relationship, and no revealing body language had presented itself over the course of dinner.

‘Did you want to get ice-cream?’ he asked Emily, as they walked out into the night air.

‘You are a mind-reader, Derek Morgan.’

‘Well, it doesn’t really take a profiler,’ he joked. Emily rolled her eyes.

They sat together in one of the booths of the blindingly white ice-cream parlor, and Morgan felt a little out of place in the suit and tie.

‘So,’ Morgan asked, pretending to ignore the spoonful of ice-cream that Emily stole from his sundae. ‘CIA?’

She gave a slight grimace. ‘Yeah. He didn’t threaten to waterboard you, did he?’ Her voice was deadpan again, and he wasn’t entirely sure whether she was joking or not.

‘Has he done that before?’

‘Actually waterboarded someone? Hell no. Threatened to? On several occasions. He’s never really approved of any of the guys I’ve dated.’

‘He said as much,’ Morgan told her, to which Emily’s eyes widened.

‘He didn’t…’

‘He said he was glad that you’d finally gotten it right,’ Morgan said, quickly. The evening would have gone from success to disaster if Emily had committed patricide.

She stared at her own ice-cream – Rocky Road – almost distantly. ‘Sometimes,’ she said. ‘Sometimes, I think that if I’d ever told him about what happened in Italy, he might have done it for real.’

‘I wouldn’t have blamed him,’ Morgan said immediately, and Emily gave him a dark, sad look.

‘John and I…I haven’t forgiven him for what he did,’ she told Morgan. ‘But I don’t exactly blame him, either. I did something horrible to escape my situation, and I hate myself for it every day.’

‘That doesn’t make it okay,’ Morgan said resolutely. ‘You deserve to be loved, Emily.’

She gave him a teary smile. ‘So do you.’ Their hands met in the middle of the table, fingers intertwining.

Morgan was almost positive that they were both thinking the same thing, but he said nothing at all.

They finished their ice-cream in silence, and then he drove Emily home.

‘I had a nice time tonight,’ he said, standing in the doorway of her condo.

‘Me too,’ she smiled. ‘They’re good people, when they’re around.’ There was a pause. ‘I’ll see you Monday.’

He wanted to kiss her cheek, but in the end settled on a semi-awkward hug.

‘See you Monday.’


	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

It was 10am on a Monday morning, almost three weeks later when she found the form on her desk. She wasn’t late by any means of the word – new cases were briefed at ten – but she usually liked to get in early, if only to start attacking the inbox full of files that always managed to magically refill itself overnight.

This file, though, was different from all the others.

It wasn’t a consultation, or a report, or any other one of the sheets of paper that she found herself filling out on a daily basis. It was the sheet of paper she’d once upon a time found herself filling out over and over again, to no avail, because really, the only feeling the Prentiss name invoked was one of mistrust.

A transfer request.

It was fully filled out in black ink, and handwriting that wasn’t her own. The name and signature in the bottom left hand corner, though, shed some light onto who was responsible.

Erin Strauss, Section Chief.

There were two other spaces – one for her own signature, and one for Hotch’s, because the FBI was nothing if not strict about chain of command.

She saw the transfer form for what it was. A kick out the door.

Because she’d been right – the name Derek Morgan carried a lot of weight with the people upstairs. There was no doubt they’d been pleased with his tenure as Unit Chief, and there was no way in hell they wanted to lose him, but one of them had to go.

She, of course, was expendable.

She’d just thought it would have gone down differently than this.

Ignoring the questioning glance from Reid, who was sitting at his own desk reading a file, she walked right past him, the transfer request caught in a white knuckled grip.

She was angry.

No – that was a major understatement. She was pissed as all hell. And that has absolutely fuck all to do with hormones.

Erin Strauss had gone behind her back and almost fucked up her career once, and Emily would be damned if she was going to let it happen again. She’d resign in a public outburst before she played that game. At the same time, she wasn’t about to let Morgan risk his career for her sake.

Right now, the best course of action was to talk to Hotch.

In all honesty, she would rather have talked to Rossi – it felt less like an interrogation, and more like an actual conversation, because try as he might, Aaron Hotchner couldn’t shut down the agent inside of him. Rossi could put pressure on Strauss – he had enough blackmail material no doubt – but that wasn’t what needed to be done.

It needed to be done by the book. Chain of command and whatnot. In any case, she was pretty sure she was going to have to get used to uncomfortable experiences, because after Hotch, the next step was the Wicked Witch herself.

Steeling herself, she stopped at Hotch’s door, knocking even though it was wide open.

‘Prentiss?’ There was no hint in his voice that betrayed what he could be thinking. No indication that he could have any idea what this is about. But then, he was a lot better at compartmentalizing than Emily was. In the years that she’d worked at the BAU, she’d seen him smile maybe twice a year on average. Even less, after Haley’s death.

Still. Her field of focus wasn’t exactly indiscriminate when she was angry.

With as much composure as she could muster, she set the form on his desk. ‘Did you know about this?’ The same composure didn’t extend to her words though, and even before she’d finished speaking, she was trying to reel herself in.

He picked it up, eyes scanning down the page, over the words fresh from Erin Strauss’ laser printer and rollerball pen. His expression didn’t change.

‘Close the door,’ is all he said, and she did so, afterwards following the unspoken request to sit down.

‘You spoke with Strauss?’ Emily prompted him.

‘I did,’ he nodded, adding, in that same level tone, ‘As I told you and Morgan last month, she informed me that she would need to assess the situation.’ It was in a softer, almost sad voice that he said, ‘She didn’t tell me about this.’

‘What can we do about this?’ she asked him, the words out of her mouth before she even really thought about what she was saying, as though this was a case -  a serial killer, or an arsonist – rather than her personal life. ‘What can…what can _I_ do about this?’ she amended.

Hotch hesitated, and that, more than anything else, terrified her.

Because she didn’t really need him to tell her that horrible, awful, undeniable truth. There was nothing she could do.

‘I can arrange a meeting with the Section Chief,’ he suggested, ‘But quite frankly, I don’t think it will make a difference. You should consider the offer.’

It wasn’t really his fault, but there was that indiscriminate anger thing all over again.

‘Just like that? Consider her offer – leave the team? Come _on_ , Hotch.’ Too late she realized just how much it sounded like she was blaming him, when really, it was her own fault. ‘I’m sorry…’ Before he could speak, she continued, saying all the things she really should have said six weeks ago. ‘I’m sorry I – we – put you in this position. Whatever happens, the team is going to be brought down by this.’

He nodded, an acceptance of her apology, rather than an acknowledgment of the blame. ‘Did you want me to set up a meeting with Strauss?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ she told him. ‘But…just me. Don’t involve Morgan in this. He’ll want…I can’t risk him finding out yet, Hotch. You know what he’ll do. This is between me and Agent Strauss.’

He didn’t argue as she got up to leave, only passing back the transfer request form. ‘Emily…for what it’s worth, considering the circumstances, this is a good offer. Don’t be so quick to turn it down.’

She gave him a grim smile and walked out.

 **…**

The meeting was set up for the following morning, early enough that Emily could go downstairs to the bullpen without incurring too much suspicion; Strauss had apparently anticipated her reaction and cleared her schedule accordingly. It was not a particularly optimistic development. The Section Chief’s secretary gives her a look as she sat outside the office, tapping her foot against the floor. There was bad blood between Emily and Strauss – history that was only going to make this harder.

The secretary gave Emily a nod, and she stood, unconsciously straightening her shirt – as if that was going to do a lick of good. There was a baby bump there, but so slight that you could only tell if you were looking for it.  She was fairly sure that news of her pregnancy had probably spread all the way to the FBI mail room, so much so that people she didn’t even know were giving her looks in the hallway. Maybe that was just paranoia.

Strauss _did_ know, though, and the dirty looks from her were real. Dirty wasn’t the right word. Disdainful, maybe. Maybe that was Emily’s own contempt coloring her judgment there. She slid into the seat across from Strauss’ desk, holding the older woman’s gaze. There was a certain level of respect that had to be maintained – Emily wasn’t about to put on her rebellious face that had been honed during her teenage years, but neither would she lay down and take whatever punishment Erin Strauss had to give.

‘I would like to discuss this with you,’ Emily started, sliding the unsigned transfer form across the table.

‘The way I see it, there isn’t much to be discussed,’ Strauss said evenly. ‘I’m giving you the opportunity to take the easy way out.’ _The easy way out._ It sounded so…She wasn’t sure what it sounded, but she knew that she wasn’t going to let go of the BAU so easily.

‘After everything, you’re just going to get rid of me?’ Emily asked, sounded a lot more scornful than she had intended.

‘Agent Prentiss, need I remind you that _you_ are the one that broke the rules. You’re lucky that I didn’t decide to fire you.’ Emily felt like laughing. Strauss wasn’t even going to _acknowledge_ Morgan’s participation in the pregnancy, probably because it meant that she would have to do something about it. Never let it be said that politics was in any way fair. That said, she wasn’t about to drag him down with her.

‘I understand that.’ Emily kept her voice level, though the temptation to call Strauss on all of her bullshit was strong. ‘I just feel that leaving a transfer form on my desk was not the best way to go about things. I would like to discuss my alternatives.’

The look in Strauss’ eyes told her that there really weren’t any alternatives. That she was pretty damn lucky to be given the transfer instead of a kick out the door.

‘I considered you for the position of Acting Unit Chief while Agent Hotchner stepped down,’ Strauss revealed, and it was almost a non-sequitur, but Emily knew that Erin Strauss rarely did or said anything without a reason. ‘Ultimately, I decided that you lacked the loyalty and the experience in the Unit for the position.’

Emily’s temper flared, and she was teetering on the precipice of telling Strauss to fuck the job and walking out right then and there. She managed to hold on, though, nails digging into her palm. ‘I give my loyalty to those who earn it,’ she said coolly. ‘Not to those that hire me to _spy_ on my colleagues.’ The words didn’t help her position, but Emily had come to the realization that _nothing_ was going to be helping her position.

Strauss ignored the barb, letting her expression settle into a frown. ‘While I don’t believe your skills are suited to a leadership position in the Behavioral Analysis Unit, they _are_ suited to such a position in another department. Quite frankly, your skills in linguistics and international relations are being wasted. This move would be best for everyone.’

Emily wasn’t an idiot. Strauss wasn’t just turning everything around and deciding to be friendly for no reason. She was trying to make it seem as though transferring to another unit was a _good_ thing, and Emily wasn’t entirely sure that she was wrong. Her heart set on the BAU, she had resisted the pull of the State Department, and the CIA, and all those other places that she was told “would be good for her.” Apparently, though, the FBI had just as much bullshit politics as all the other possibilities.

‘Is that all?’ Strauss asked, making it abundantly clear that the meeting was over.

With a suppressed sigh, Emily took the transfer form. ‘That’s all.’

Instead of going down to her desk, Emily went straight for the ladies bathroom on the BAU floor. She had, for the most part, held her emotions in check while with Strauss, but there was just something about having everything she’d worked towards ripped from beneath her that made tears the only reasonable reaction. The sadness quickly shifted to anger, her fists clenching, the tears still flowing unfettered. She wanted to hit something – anything – but it wasn’t the time, or the place. The good news was, punching bags were still a viable alternative during the first trimester. Technically speaking, she was on the cusp of the second, now; it was almost scary how fast things seemed to be moving.

Splashing water across her face, Emily stared into the mirror. Her eyes were red – no amount of water would fix that, and her makeup bag was in her bag, under her desk. It was, at the very least, fortunate that she hadn’t worn mascara today. Still, she kept her eyes cast downward as she entered to the bullpen, hoping against hope that Morgan wasn’t there.

No such luck.

Emily slipped the transfer form into her bag, nonchalantly, hyperaware of the familiar footsteps coming up behind her.

‘Everything alright?’ he asked, his voice warm, and damn him, he had no right to be so appealing. She wanted to hate him for being the one that did this to her, even if it really wasn’t his fault.

‘Fine,’ she muttered. ‘I just…’ She couldn’t think of the right words to finish that sentence.

‘Baby’s okay?’ His brow furrowed, and then she remembered that he’d been forced to stay behind for a consult during her last doctor’s appointment. She’d been acting distant to him since at least then.

In spite of the situation, she broke into a smile. ‘Baby’s fine.’

‘You’re fine?’ he asked again, his voice colored with the same concern.

‘Yeah.’ She bent back down underneath her desk, pulling out her gym bag. There were workout clothes in there, thanks to her desire to not let excess ice-cream consumption and baby weight take over her life. ‘I’m gonna go hit the gym. Could you tell Hotch where I am?’

Morgan raised an eyebrow. It was 9am, it wasn’t exactly unheard of for BAU agents to work out before cases were briefed. Both she and Morgan had done it numerous times, back when things had actually been normal between them. ‘Sure. Are you sure everything’s okay?’

‘Yeah,’ she insisted. ‘I’m fine. Everything’s fine.’ It stung to lie to him, but she didn’t want him to find out just yet. Chances were, he’d do everything in his power to stop the transfer from going through, and the last thing she needed was Strauss and Morgan having some kind of showdown. Things were complicated enough already.

So she grabbed her gym bag and her water bottle and took the elevator down to the appropriate floor. There were some perks about working in the FBI Academy building; they had great training facilities. She was briefly nostalgic of the days where she’d go down to the gym with Morgan, and sometimes JJ or Reid, but not often, and they would spar until they were laughing and sweating like crazy. She missed that comfortable, easy friendship that they’d had. Maybe, someday, somehow, they’d be able to salvage it.

Her workout clothes were starting to get a little tight, but not uncomfortably so. Emily tried not to stare at her stomach as she pulled her hair into a ponytail and found the fingerless gloves that she used to work out. Her “bat gloves,” Morgan called them. Exactly what they had to do with Batman, she wasn’t quite sure.

At this time on a Tuesday morning, the gym wasn’t particularly full, and most importantly, there was a punching bag free. While imagining Erin Strauss face in the center of it wasn’t particularly good for her working relationship with the woman, it did wonders for her mood, and by the time she had thrown her last punch, Emily was feeling much better than she had upon leaving the bullpen half an hour prior.

She showered before returning upstairs, letting the water wash the sweat from her body. It probably wouldn’t be anywhere near enough to fool them, but she’d been dealing with one notable stressful thing already, and hopefully they wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

 _This is what you do_ , _Emily_ , she told herself. _You close yourself off. You compartmentalize._

She would tell them in her own time.

If only it was that easy.

 **…**

Morgan twirled his pen between his fingers. There was a pile of consults and other various bits of paperwork sitting in his in-tray, but he had been staring at the same one for over an hour. It wasn’t that he couldn’t profile it; the thing was pretty simple. Two bodies, two different killers, no cause for the BAU to be questioned, but they were encouraged to give a little insight anyway.

He straightened in his chair as Emily returned from the gym. Her hair was wet, and she looked as though she’d just run a marathon. She looked towards him with a tired, forced smile.

There was definitely something going on.

He hadn’t missed any more prenatal appointments, as far as he was aware. He’d missed that one appointment before, due to a work conflict, but Emily hadn’t been particularly upset about it. There was different about have a child with a colleague – they knew the job. They understood the job. But that hadn’t made him feel any better about the situation.

Maybe she wasn’t feeling well today, or maybe her mother was being particularly painful, or maybe there were half a dozen other explanations that he couldn’t think of because he didn’t know a damn thing about what went on in her personal life.

He got to his feet, noticing Emily’s eyes widen as she stepped towards her desk. Okay, so there was something going on that she didn’t want to tell him about. Still, he couldn’t help but notice how beautiful she looked, even with the wet hair, and the overtones of exhaustion, and the fear in her eyes.

‘You sure everything’s okay, Emily?’ he asked. ‘Because you sure as hell don’t look okay.’

She bit her lip. ‘The nausea just feels a little worse today. I went down to the gym to take my mind off things.’

Morgan raised an eyebrow. ‘If it’s just that, why couldn’t you tell me before?’

She gave him a look. ‘Seriously? Morgan, you are a ridiculous coddler. I tell you I’m not feeling well, and you’ll wrap me up in a blanket and call an ambulance.’

He paused. She had a point, but was that really all that was going on. He had to believe that if something was seriously wrong, she would have told him. He had to believe that she trusted him.

‘You want me to come around tonight?’ he asked, with some hesitation. His heart dropped slightly when she shook her head.

‘Honestly, I wouldn’t be very good company. I’m just gonna go home and sleep the moment it hits 5.’

Morgan nodded, mentally kicking himself for pushing too hard. Emily was completely unlike the girls he picked up at bars or clubs; she wouldn’t respond particularly enthusiastically to his persistence. He had to go slowly, otherwise she would shut him out completely.

‘Well…if you need me, you know where I am.’ She gave him a pained smile.

‘Thanks. For everything.’ She stood and gave him a quick kiss to the cheek. ‘You’re a good guy, Derek.’ The words sounded like they should be followed by “but I think we should just be friends.” He’d never been on the receiving end of that speech before, but Emily didn’t say anything more.

They relocated to the briefing room at 10am; thankfully, no new cases today. At least not yet. He didn’t think he had the cognitive capacity to work on something urgent right now, and he was pretty sure that Emily didn’t either. She was distant as JJ passed out the pile of consults, and Morgan wondered if there was something beyond what she was telling him.

He wanted to believe that since the dynamic of their relationship had shifted, Emily would be more willing to confide in him – even in matters that weren’t related to the pregnancy. Now, he wasn’t so sure. After all, what made him a more appropriate confidante than Rossi, or Garcia, or JJ, aside from the fact that he’d gotten her pregnant.

 _You’ve been getting closer_ , Morgan reminded himself. _Not close enough, for your liking,_ his mind added.

Part of him wanted to believe that they shared something beyond a child. Maybe he was deluding himself.

 _Or maybe, you’re not, and the fact that you’re so close is the reason why she’s avoiding you._

He kept a close eye on her for the rest of the day, but didn’t see anything that indicated something beyond the normal issues; she looked tired, and maybe a little nauseous, but that was it. Morgan was in no way surprised when she packed up her gear the moment the clock hit five, just like she said she would.

It wasn’t until she’d left the bullpen that Reid swivelled in his chair and asked, ‘What’s going on?’

Morgan shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’

…

Emily vomited, not five minutes after she opened her front door. By now, she was used to the morning sickness, but she was still eternally grateful that it would be over soon – twelve weeks, when it usually ceased for most women, Reid told her, when she’d emerged from the bathroom last week. Listening to his snippets on the subject beat reading through pregnancy books.

She doubted, though, that he could tell her anything about what to do now. The best he could do was offer up odds, or statistics, but in the end, it was a matter of the heart. The BAU was her _life_ , and she wasn’t entirely sure that it wouldn’t kill her to leave it behind.

But then, part of her knew that maybe she had to: the alternative was so, so much worse.

Usually when Emily was in this kind of mood – after a bad case, or a horrific date – she’d settled down with a glass of wine, and watch some guilty pleasure TV. Tonight, though, wine was out of the question, and TV didn’t really seem appropriate.

Instead, Emily trudged upstairs, tossing her bag onto the bed. It was still too early for sleep, and she knew that there was too much on her mind to even consider just resting. Her eyes fell on the framed photo that sat on her nightstand. It had been taken on one of those rare nights out where the entire team had actually managed to make it. Hotch and Rossi were both tipping back scotches, oblivious to the camera’s presence, and JJ gave a dull-eyed stare, no doubt due to the fact that Reid seemed to be caught mid-diatribe. Morgan was grinning, an arm wrapped around Garcia on one side, and Emily on the other.

 _This is what you’ll be losing, if you sign that form_. _And it’s what you’ll be losing if you don’t. That’s politics – sometimes the only way out is a lose-lose._

She pulled that single sheet of white paper from her bag, and stared at it, vaguely aware of the tear forming in her eye.

‘Goddamnit,’ she muttered.

Her hand shook as she reached for a pen.


	9. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

‘Why didn’t you tell me Emily was transferring out of the BAU?’ Garcia’s words hit him with a sledgehammer that broke through his mid-afternoon reverie with more efficiency than any amount of caffeine ever could.

‘What are you talking about, baby girl?’ he asked, trying to sound casual about the whole thing, but miserably failing. _Emily put in for a transfer without telling him?_

‘After the last debacle with Strauss, I’ve been keeping tabs to make sure none of the team has any unexpected career changes.’ She tapped a few keys, and brought up a scanned image of a completed transfer request. _Emily’s_ transfer request, he corrected himself – that was definitely her signature in the bottom right hand corner. ‘I just found this. You didn’t know anything about this, do you?’ She looked somewhat guilty for revealing what had apparently been a secret – a secret that he would have rather found out another way.

‘When does the transfer go through?’

‘It’s already gone through.’ Garcia’s tone was soft, almost apologetic. ‘We’ve been busy, and the Bureau tends to frown when I flag things that aren’t pertinent to cases, and…I missed it.’ Her eyes brightened. ‘The good news is, she doesn’t actually transfer for a couple of months. Red tape saves the day, for once.’ She gave a soft laugh that was anything but mirthful.

For so long now, things had been running smoothly. After Elle, after Gideon, things had been rough, but they had persevered together, coming out of it stronger. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to go. They were not supposed to be splitting up the team for something like _this_. It just seemed too…surreal. And not in a good way. Sometimes he felt like they’d be like this forever; his own stint as Unit Chief had been jarring, at best. The changes this would bring…

He couldn’t let this happen.

Giving Garcia a grimace, he took his leave, determined to find Emily and ask her _why?_ Why had she done this? More importantly, why had she done it without even _consulting_ him? He’d thought that maybe his status as her child’s father would have warranted a heads-up, at the very least. Just a “Hey, Morgan, sonogram on Thursday, don’t forget. By the way, I’m leaving the BAU. Have a nice weekend.”

He couldn’t quite judge his own emotional state. Angry? Upset? Confused? All of the above?

Morgan found Emily at her desk, doing paperwork, as though nothing was wrong. As though she hadn’t made one of the biggest decisions of her life. Without him. ‘Can we talk?’ he asked, trying not to let his emotion seep out into his words, but he’d never really been that good at hiding his feelings. The look on her face told him that she’d already figured out why he was there.

She looked around, mouth open slightly. ‘Not here,’ she said eventually, leading him out of the bullpen and down the hallway. It wasn’t the most isolated of places she could have chosen, but it was far better than having a domestic in front of the rest of the BAU.

‘Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?’ he asked, noting that already, her eyes were wet with tears.

She shook her head. ‘I didn’t exactly _choose_ to leave,’ she revealed. ‘Strauss gave me an ultimatum. Either I leave the BAU, or we both leave the FBI – permanently.’ Strauss’ involvement in this was no surprise, but he shelved that bit of knowledge for later. Right now, his focus was Emily.

‘So you decided not to tell me?’ he said, exasperated. ‘What was the plan, that I find out when I came into work one day and your desk was empty? I don’t need you making decisions about my life, Emily.’

Emily gave a sigh. ‘Look, Derek, I know you’re upset, but I’m pretty sure if you’d confronted Strauss then we’d both be out of a job. I did what I had to do.’

‘Why do you have such a martyr complex?’ he demanded, his voice rising. It’s wasn’t his preferred reaction, but she was being so damn stubborn that it was hard not to get angry.

‘Oh, and you don’t?’ she retorted, her tone just as heated. ‘We both know for a fact that if it were you, you would have done exactly the same thing.’

There was a long pause, because really, he’d be lying if he’d said otherwise. He didn’t tell her that, though, because deep down, he felt betrayed that she hadn’t even _told_ him before signing the form. He would have been there for her, even if it might have taken a while to accept the fact that she wasn’t going to say to that offer.

He’d thought that they were growing closer. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

‘Derek…’ Emily choked back a sob. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t…’ She paused. ‘I wanted to tell you.’

‘You should have,’ he told her bluntly. ‘You think this doesn’t affect me? You don’t have the right to make that decision for me. If I want to leave the FBI, that’s _my_ choice.’

She stared at him, and Morgan wondered if he’d said too much. ‘I’m sorry.’ He echoed her words. ‘I just…let’s talk about this later – I need to think.’

He walked off before she could say anything else, but talking was the last thing on his agenda. He stormed up the stairs to Hotch’s office, and flung the door open without knocking. Hotch looked upwards, his brow furrowing.

‘Are you really okay with this?’ Morgan demanded. Hotch didn’t ask for clarification – after all, he signed off on the transfer.

‘Of course I’m not okay with it,’ Hotch answered, in a voice that was a great deal calmer than Morgan’s. ‘Fraternization has consequences, Derek. You know that the Section Chief is well within her rights to do this.’

‘I don’t give a fuck what Strauss’ rights are,’ he thundered, immediately realizing that he’d gone too far. He gave himself to calm down, and Hotch, to his credit, did not interfere. He shook his head. ‘Why her? Why not me? Emily has twice the Bureau experience that I do.’

‘But not nearly as much experience in this Unit,’ Hotch countered.

‘You think that matters? If Gideon can rewrite the rulebook to let Reid in, then there’s no reason that Emily can’t stay. We can be objective.’

‘Can you?’ Hotch asked, an eyebrow raised.

‘Yes.’ Morgan answered almost instantly, trying to ignore the “No” that echoed in his mind. When he considered the possibility of Emily in danger, his heart started beating just that little bit faster. If it were to happen for real… ‘No,’ he admitted. ‘It’s just…’ He shook his head. ‘This is fucked up, Hotch.’

Hotch grimaced, not disagreeing. ‘I’ve started looking through applications. The moment anyone hears a rumor that there’s even a possibility of a position opening in the BAU, they all come flooding in.’ He gave Morgan a look. ‘I’d like your opinion on some of them, if you have the time.’

‘Yeah, I guess,’ Morgan said, without much enthusiasm. He still wasn’t willing to let go of Emily, let alone start looking at who would be able to fill her position.

‘She’s not being kicked to the curb, Derek,’ Hotch said, apparently reading Morgan’s reluctance. ‘It’s a good position – she’ll have more opportunities for advancement than she would in the BAU.’

 _That doesn’t make it okay_ , Morgan thought to himself, but he didn’t say anything.

 _Are you upset for her, or are you upset for you_?

Morgan wasn’t quite sure how to answer that one.

…

He looked for Emily, so he could make things right, but she wasn’t anywhere in the bullpen, nor was she with JJ or Garcia. ‘She said she was leaving early,’ JJ said with a shrug. ‘She looked kind of upset, though – is everything okay?’

It wasn’t his place to tell JJ, so he didn’t, instead muttering something about nausea, which, as far as he was aware, wasn’t entirely untrue. The morning sickness had been a lot worse over the last few days, though now he wondered whether part of that was stress as well.

 _You’re a jerk, Derek_ , he told himself.

‘You’re still ready for tonight?’ Reid asked, as Morgan returned to the bullpen. Confusion swept across Morgan’s mind. _Tonight?_

Oh.

Cooking lessons.

They’d been postponed three times now, thanks to the workload, and Morgan was in half a mind to do so again, after the day’s revelation, but he didn’t. Maybe he didn’t need to think about things. Maybe he needed to take his mind _off_ things. Calm down a bit.

‘Sure,’ he said.

‘You have the list I gave you?’ Reid asked, eying him suspiciously. If he knew anything about what was going on with Emily, he didn’t say anything.

‘Yeah.’ Morgan nodded. The week earlier, Reid had accompanied him to the mall, where they’d made sure that they had all the right equipment. Apparently, good cookware was expensive.

Now, all he had to buy was the food – Reid apparently had some basic recipes in mind, none of which he’d divulged as yet.

‘I’ll see you at seven then,’ Reid told him, returning to whatever had seized his attention on the computer screen. In spite of conflicting emotions, Morgan managed a grin. Reid had grown up significantly over the past six years. He was still a nerd – that would never change – but there was a refreshing self-confidence that had come from witness interviews and talking down unsubs.

Maybe they were all growing up.

Maybe growing up meant moving on, even if you didn’t want to.

Morgan left the BAU at five, was home with his groceries by six, and paced until seven.

Reid arrived at two minutes past seven, with a black apron in his hand.

‘No chef’s hat?’ Morgan queried, entirely unsurprised that Reid had a fact-filled answer to the question.

‘Actually, while the double-breasted chef’s jacket provides a practical purpose, the hat is a throwback to the 16th century when many professions had their own head-pieces. These days, though, it’s often an indication or rank within a kitchen.’

‘I love hanging with you man,’ Morgan grinned. Reid’s eyes lit up. ‘Alright, so where do we start?’

In true Reid fashion, they started with theory.

‘There are several main types of cooking,’ Reid explaining, hands occupied with tying his apron – he was so skinny, that the cord wrapped right around to his front. ‘Some suggest that if you can learn each method, then you can cook anything, but that’s something of an oversimplification. It certainly _helps_ , but by no means will it make you an executive chef. Fortunately, you don’t really need that kind of skill to make simple, healthy meals.’

Morgan was semi-listening as Reid went over the basics of each method, but really, he was thinking about Emily. Reid stopped.

‘Are you listening?’

Morgan almost felt like he was back in school.

‘Yes.’ A complete lie.

‘Does grilling heat from above or below.’

Morgan stared at him. ‘Come on, Reid.’

‘You asked for my help, Morgan. I can’t help you if you don’t want to be helped.’

Morgan sighed. ‘I’m sorry. I’m just distracted.’

‘Emily’s transferring, isn’t she?’

There was a long pause. ‘How the hell did you know?’

‘Derek, I have an IQ of 187, and I’d have to be blind not to notice what’s been going on around the office lately.’

‘Oh. Right.’ He sighed. ‘I don’t know what to do about this.’

Reid gave him an apologetic look. ‘That’s not something I can tell you, Morgan. Love might be a product of brain chemistry, but that doesn’t make it easy. I don’t think anyone can claim to fully understand how the human mind works. So maybe you’ll just have to go with your heart.’

‘Wait – love?’ he asked, frowning. When had he ever said anything about love? Reid just stared at him.

‘I am a profiler, too, remember?’

…

In the end, they didn’t get a significant amount of cooking done. Morgan wasn’t all that hungry, so he divided the food up into Tupperware containers, and threw it in the freezer.

‘Thanks, Reid. I owe you one,’ Morgan said. Reid gave him a smile.

‘We can work on some more tomorrow night, if you want?’

‘That’d be good.’

Reid seemed to sense the urgency in Morgan’s voice, and left quickly. Morgan grabbed his wallet, cell and keys, and was out the door in a flash, barely stopping to say goodbye to Clooney.

He drove.

It was past nine o’clock, and he wasn’t entirely sure whether Emily would still be awake, but this was important enough that he was going to wake her up anyway.

She answered the door in a tank-top and panties, blinking sleep from her eyes, and damned if she wasn’t’ the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life.

‘We need to talk.’

‘Derek, I…’

‘I’m not going anywhere Emily – I need to get this out.’

She hesitated, but stepped backwards to let him inside. The door closed behind him with an echoing _click_.

‘I just wanted to say I’m sorry…about this morning,’ he said. ‘I’m still not happy about it, but I over-reacted, and I said some things that I probably shouldn’t have.’

Emily bit her lip. ‘Why do you care so much?’ she asked softly, and for a moment, he could see the pain, the anger, the sadness that was reflected in her eyes, and it hurt more than anything he had ever felt before. ‘Why does it matter whether I’m in the BAU, or if I’m two floors down in Counterintelligence? I’m not trying to shut you out, Derek. I’m trying to make this work.’

The fact that she’d be working Counterintelligence was new, but he didn’t process it, because there was only one thing running through his mind. Really, he should know better, but the only thought running through his mind was that he should kiss her. So he did. She was surprised at first, but after a split second, he felt her lips starting to reciprocate the gesture, opening slightly to allow a little more leeway.

‘So am I,’ he said, stepping back, just the slightest bit short of breath. Emily’s eyes were wide in surprise, as if she’d never even considered the possibility that he’d want to be in this kind of relationship with her. ‘I’d never really thought something like this could happen between us,’ he admitted. ‘But I respect you, and I like you a lot, and I think the only thing that was stopping me from trying was the job. I know that it will be much easier on our child if we were together, so…I want to try and make this work.’ He passed her own words back to her, only now they meant so much more.

For a few seconds, she didn’t speak, and he was half afraid that he was about to be rejected. After all, hadn’t exactly been the nice guy today. ‘Are you serious?’ she asked, a little dumbfounded, but the tone of voice wasn’t one of disgust. It was one of elation. She thumped him on the arm. ‘You are such a dork.’

He blinked; it was not quite the answer he’d been expecting.

‘Excuse me?’

‘You’re a dork,’ she insisted. ‘You come over all upset about not being told about my transfer, and then you decide to tell me that you want to start going steady? That is just…’ She gesticulated her hands, frustrated. ‘Dorky.’

He wasn’t used to the level of light-heartedness in her voice, even if he had seen it sporadically. There wasn’t an excessive amount of time for playful attitudes when there were serial killers on the loose.

Morgan raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that a yes?’

She sighed. ‘Yes. Yes, it’s a yes. Even if it is kind of weird.’

He gave a grin at that, in spite of the otherwise somber circumstances. ‘You take a step backwards to look at the lives we lead, and _this_ is weird? Oh, Princess, we are just getting started.’


	10. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

It felt a little strange, getting ready for a first date when she was already three months pregnant – while her stomach had barely started to swell, Emily still felt kind of weird wearing anything too tight or too revealing.  It still left plenty of options, though most of them were too similar to her work attire. Her hand rested on the red dress that had heralded the canceled weekend in Atlantic City.

Morgan’d made eyes at her when she’d worn it then, even if it had been before any kind of development in the relationship. Maybe he’d appreciate the symbolism. She found a pair of heels that matched the dress – not stilettos; Emily made a habit in dressing as though there might have been an excuse to run, even if there wasn’t.  Part of that was about the job, and part of it wasn’t. Still, the dress was loose enough that she could move pretty freely, and the heels were thick enough that she wasn’t going to trip and break an ankle.

She wasn’t exactly planning to run away from Morgan, but it was kind of comforting in a way to know that the option was there. At the same time, though, she felt kind of bad for thinking it.

Half an hour later, make-up done, hair pulled back, bag clutched in her fingertips, Emily heard the doorbell ring. Her breath caught in her throat, and was almost terrified to realize just how nervous she was. For so long, every single relationship she’d been in had ended in disaster. The few that _had_ shown potential, she found herself running away from. Part of her wanted to cut this whole thing off now, just to save Morgan from the pain of her inevitable freak out.

‘No,’ she told herself firmly, feeling like an idiot. ‘You are not going to do this, Prentiss. You are going to go out, and you are going to have some fun, and you are not going to ruin everything with your blatant neuroticism.’

‘I can hear you, Emily,’ he called out, and she muttered a muted, “crap” under her breath. Sighing, she pulled the door open, and was greeted by a bouquet of flowers, or rather, Morgan holding a bouquet of flowers.

‘For you,’ he smiled, and she was relieved to find that he wasn’t going to make a comment about what he’d heard just moments earlier. He was dressed smart-casual; black button-up shirt, pants, shoes. The kind of outfit he’d had going during his short stint as Unit Chief. ‘You look beautiful.’ He leaned forward to kiss Emily, and she turned so that his lips brushed her cheek.

‘You smell like Old Spice,’ she countered, which, really, wasn’t the best response she could have thought of.

‘Really?’ he said, with a half frown, apparently not quite sure how to take the comment.

‘Really. But don’t worry – you’re ten times as badass as the Old Spice guy.’

There was an awkward moment, but it only lasted for a split second before Morgan’s expression split into a grin. A tense grin, but a grin nonetheless.

‘Are you ready?’

 _No,_ her brain said, while her mouth said, ‘Yep.’

Morgan gave her a look. ‘Emily, this is me, not some jackass who’s going to drop you after one date. This doesn’t need to be uncomfortable.’

She raised an eyebrow at that. ‘I’m pretty sure it’s already kinda uncomfortable, Derek. It’s not as though we just suddenly decided to go on a date.’

He considered the options for a moment. ‘Tell you what – screw the restaurant. Come back to my place, and I’ll make you dinner. You can be as comfortable or as uncomfortable as you want, and we don’t have to deal with rich snobs looking at us funny.’

For some reason, the idea sounded far more appealing than the night that had been planned. ‘You can cook?’ she asked, in mock surprise. After the spaghetti debacle, she had her misgivings. At the very least, she knew he could make good pancakes, but the thought of going back to his place seemed far more appealing than going to a restaurant.

‘I’ve been learning,’ he told her, with such a serious look on his face, that Emily realized he was telling the truth. ‘Why else do you think I’ve been hanging out with Reid so much?’

Emily didn’t rise to the obvious bait of the question, instead saying, ‘Let me just grab my go-bag then,’ She wasn’t entirely sure why, but for some reason being at his place from the start increased the chances that she might actually spend the night, even if she had no plans whatsoever to do so.

She put the flowers in the empty vase on her kitchen bench, and then transcended the stairs carefully, so as not to trip on the heels – that hadn’t happened in a long time, though, not since _running_ in the things had become such a common occurrence.

He hadn’t brought the motorcycle, for which she was supremely grateful. His car, which was some variety of muscle car that she couldn’t quite identify, was well maintained, with leather upholstery that added to the dark and mysterious vibe he seemed to have going that night.

‘So,’ he started, as they pulled out of the parking garage. ‘Favorite movie?’

‘I’m sorry?’ Emily asked, a little confused.

‘We have worked together four years, and I feel like I know nothing about you. I want to fix that. Favorite movie.’

‘ _Empire Strikes Back_. But I like it _way_ too much to get into a conversation with Reid about the specifications of the Death Star.’

The conversation continued for the entire car ride, and Emily learnt that Morgan had a penchant for Jazz and Blues – which she had known – and that he fostered a secret love for romantic comedies, which she had _not_ known.

‘Is that Garcia’s influence coming out there, hot stuff?’ she grinned, and he didn’t answer the question.

‘I still prefer a good action movie,’ he told her, and that too was unsurprising.

There was a short, almost awkward silence, where neither of them seemed to know what to say. Finally, Emily asked, ‘How’s Clooney?’

‘Good,’ Morgan answered, his voice telling Emily that he was a little surprised at the question.

 ‘Do you have a neighbor that looks after him while you’re away?’ she wondered, curious as to how a pet fit in with the BAU lifestyle – looking after an animal was one thing, but looking after a child was something else altogether.

‘The kid across the street comes in and makes sure he has food and fresh water and takes him for a walk every couple of days. His mom says it’s about responsibility, but I think he cares about the fifty bucks I give him every time more than anything else. That’s teenagers for you, I guess.’

‘Is that what _you_ were like as a teenager?’ she asked, regretting the question almost immediately. She knew that teenage years weren’t something that he wanted to remember so quickly.

Morgan gave a long pause before answering. ‘After my dad died, I was kind of lost for a while. But I suppose that’s what that time is about – finding yourself.’

‘Mmm,’ Emily agreed. ‘Identity versus Role confusion.’

‘Piaget?’

‘Erikson.’

‘Right. I guess it took a while for me to find out what I really wanted. Maybe I’m still trying to find out.’

‘I can dig that,’ Emily murmured, thinking back upon her own teenage experiences. It was kind of bitterly ironic that the main thing she found herself identifying with him on was a horrible childhood experience.

His house was small – one bedroom, one bath, a small yard. As they pulled into the drive, she could see Clooney jumping up at the fence.

‘Hey, buddy.’ Morgan rubbed the dog’s head as he unlatched the gate. ‘You want to say hi to Emily?’ He ran around to sniff her, and still little unsure, Emily held out her fingers, which the dog promptly started to lick.

Morgan grinned. This time had gone much smoother. ‘He’s a friendly dog,’ Morgan told her. ‘Right up until the point where he _isn’t_.’

‘Noted,’ Emily said grimly. ‘I guess if I want to beat you up, I’ll have to do it at work.’

‘Were you planning on beating me up?’ he asked, curious.

‘Now, not so much.  But, you know…Hormones.’ She gave a shrug. ‘Better make sure you’re always wearing body armor.’

He opened the door, and Clooney pushed past both of them to jump on the sofa. ‘He loves that thing way too much,’ Morgan muttered. Emily laughed. The piece of furniture was ripped in places, worn down in others – very much the dog’s chair.

‘He was an outside dog once upon a time,’ Morgan said with a sigh, but it was a happy sigh. ‘I’m on cases so often that he gets to come inside whenever I’m home. Tell you though; the vacuum cleaner gets a hell of a workout.’

Emily set her bag down by the door, and slipped off the heels. The carpet was warm under her feet, and she let her toes scrunch.

‘You right?’ Morgan asked, torn between confusion and amusement.

‘Yeah – you live in enough places, and the right kind of flooring becomes pretty important, I guess.’

He laughed at that. ‘I can’t say I’ve ever really noticed what type of carpet I have. You like hamburgers?’

He was going through his fridge contents – it made her feel a little better to know that his asking her back here was spontaneous. And really, she wasn’t one to turn down a good hamburger.

‘Well, I can’t have rare meat, so as long as you’re willing to leave at least one patty on the grill just a little bit longer.’

‘I’m pretty sure I can manage that,’ he told her, before starting to remove the rest of the ingredients from the refrigerator. Lettuce, tomatoes. He poked his head out. ‘Is sliced cheese okay?’

‘Yeah, I think so. ’ The sliced cheese joined the rest of the foodstuffs on the kitchen bench. Even though Morgan had made his intentions to cook for her clear, she set to work rinsing the lettuce.

‘You know, the most annoying thing about this is the food restrictions,’ she said bluntly. ‘I can’t just grab something to go anymore, I have to stop and think about whether or not it’s going to cause problems for Junior.’ On impulse, she added, ‘You can have the next baby.’

There was a brief pause, at the culmination of which, Morgan asked ‘Next one?’ and Emily’s heart almost skipped a beat.

 _Shit_.

‘How about we forget I said that,’ Emily said, feeling the color rise in her cheeks.  She wondered if she would _ever_ stop putting her foot in her mouth. The problem was, she didn’t think she _could_ forget her own words. There was a thought lingering in the back of her mind – it had been there a while now – a thought of her and Derek, and their family. A family that wasn’t reliant on weekend visits or custodial agreements.

‘I’m going to talk to Strauss,’ Morgan said, his tone conversational, even if the topic he brought up was anything but.

Emily turned on him. ‘Derek.’ She put a serious emphasis on his name. ‘You really, really shouldn’t do that.’

‘Why not?’ he asked, turning away from the food that was set out on the table. ‘You can’t just have anyone in the BAU – getting rid of you would be a mistake, and Strauss needs to understand that.’

‘You’re not going to change her mind, Derek – I think _you_ need to understand that.’ Her voice had more venom in it than she’d intended, but she really needed Morgan to back off, for his own sake. If he pissed off Strauss, then it didn’t matter what kind of deal Emily had made.

‘I don’t believe that.’

Emily put a hand to her head. She liked Derek a lot, but he could be the most frustrating, stubborn, pain in the ass when he wanted to be.

‘I already told you,’ she persisted. ‘Either I leave the BAU, or we both leave the FBI.’

‘Why you?’ he demanded. ‘Why not me? That seems a little unfair, doesn’t it?’

‘Stop trying to change this, Morgan,’ she yelled, a little surprised at her own anger. Not as surprised as he was, though.

He stared at her, a little stunned. ‘Emily…’

‘Derek, I…’ She shook her head, not wanting to tell him, but at the same time knowing that she had to. ‘Strauss…Strauss brought me into the BAU to get dirt on Hotch for her. She thought that…because of my name – my parents – I would be willing to spy for her. That’s why I quit.’

The reasons behind her mysterious resignation had been overshadowed by Gideon’s disappearance, and she’d become accustomed to the idea that she’d never have to explain herself. ‘I don’t belong in the BAU, Morgan – I never did. You…you are the one that kept us together after Foyet attacked Hotch. You’re the one they wanted to lead the team in his stead. If you leave, then they will be losing a hell of a lot more compared to me leaving.’

There was a long pause, which Emily cut short with a sigh. ‘I’m sorry. I should have spoken to you about the transfer, but that would mean admitting to the fact that I was never supposed to be there in the first place.’

He stepped across the void that had sprung between them, taking her hand. ‘You always belonged, no matter what Strauss said, no matter what brought you there. There _is_ no normal way to get into the BAU – look at Reid. Look at _Garcia_. You work on a team full of profilers – trust me, if you didn’t belong, someone would have noticed.’

‘But you still want to talk to Strauss?’ she asked, looking into his eyes. The answer was already there.

‘Yes.’

Emily stepped away from him, to get her things. ‘Then I don’t think this is going to work out.’ She grabbed her shoes and started to slip them on.

‘What the fuck, Emily? You’re making me choose between having you as a team member and having you as a girlfriend? That’s dirty pool.’

‘Damn right, it’s dirty pool. It’s also the only way I can get you to understand that Strauss isn’t going to change her mind, and neither am I. I don’t want to leave, but I am. Deal with it.’

‘Emily, wait-’ he said, but she’d already stepped out the door, half wondering if she’d just made the biggest mistake of her life.

Emily stood in his driveway for what felt like an age, wondering if he was going to come outside to try and talk to her. Her cell phone in hand, her thumb hovering over the Call button. Cab wasn’t the ideal way of getting home, but there was no way she was going to ask Morgan for a lift.

Just as she was about to make the call, she heard the footsteps coming up behind her. ‘I am not okay with this,’ he said bluntly.

‘Neither am I. But this is the way it has to be. And with good reason – I don’t think there’s any way I can stay objective knowing that the father of my child tackles _buses_ every second day.’

‘I have never tackled a bus,’ he protested. ‘But I guess I wouldn’t exactly be okay with seeing you put your life on the line every day. I may have to bribe the Counterterrorism SAIC into keeping you out of harm’s way.’

‘You do that, and I will shoot your ass,’ Emily told him bluntly. ‘I will do everything in my power to keep myself and our child safe, but I do not need coddling, and I do not need you trying to protect me. Okay?’

‘Okay,’ he agreed, but she could tell that he was struggling to admit it. You couldn’t just turn off a part of yourself. They would both have to make a lot of adjustments – not just work related ones.

‘Christ,’ she muttered, with a bitter laugh. ‘This isn’t exactly how I expected the first date to go.’

‘We can still salvage it,’ Morgan said with some confidence.

‘The sad thing? This is probably one of my _better_ first dates,’ she blurted out, regretting it and being relieved that she’d gotten it out almost in the same moment. He knew a little bit about the disastrous nature of her dating history, but that was barely the tip of the iceberg. Maybe one day she’d tell him about the time she passed out drunk on a complete stranger’s sofa, or the time she’d done a bad line of coke in a Parisian nightclub. All part of her past, and yet all way too much to tell him so soon, even if he did know her a lot better than most people.

‘I’m not very good at dating either,’ he admitted. ‘Usually, it’s one night with a girl that I’m never going to see again, or a few dates with someone that doesn’t understand why I need to get out of bed at three o’clock in the morning to go to work.’

‘Well,’ Emily shrugged. ‘The only people that really can understand are the ones that have lived it.’ What she didn’t say was that she wouldn’t be living it much longer, even though that was the thought on both their minds. ‘How about we make a deal – no talking about work for the next four hours.’

Maybe that would stave off some of the awkwardness. Maybe it would bring along a whole new kind of awkwardness. Still, she needed to know whether they really _could_ make this relationship work, and that wouldn’t happen if they were at each other’s throats every five minutes.

Admittedly, the pregnancy made her more prone than usual to sudden outbursts, which meant she would need to work extra hard at _not_ putting her foot in her mouth.

The main problem was, work was such a major part of their lives that it was hard _not_ to talk about it. It was usually Reid that she talked to about the nerdy hobbies she’d acquired over the years, or about the philosophical implications regarding the ending of _Watchmen_ , or about the inevitable zombie apocalypse. Morgan had always seemed a little less interested. He liked Vonnegut, sure, but that was one author out of dozens that Emily herself read. She had the feeling there was some amount of closet nerdiness – the fact that he had consented to being dragged along to _Avatar_ by herself and Garcia, without complaining even a little bit. __

There were a few moments of kind of awkward silence between them. This was so much easier when they weren’t trying to be a couple. Being thrust into parenthood, into a relationship seemed to make things that much more difficult.

‘That sounds like a good idea,’ he agreed. ‘Now where were we?’

‘Hamburgers,’ Emily prompted him. ‘Do you have any potatoes? I could make fries.’

‘You are a fry addict,’ he joked, giving her a playful nudge.

‘I go to meetings and everything,’ she told him solemnly, and they made their way back inside. He did have potatoes as it turned out, as well as an almost full bottle of olive oil. He didn’t have a deep fryer, though, so it looked like they’d be having baked fries, which was probably a hell of a lot healthier anyway. Growing up in embassies, she’d made friends with a lot of kitchen staff from a variety of different countries – as a result, her _coq au vin_ was well pretty good, but in spite of the name, French fries weren’t something that she’d had a lot of experience in making. Ambassadorial staff weren’t in the practice of requesting hamburgers for dinner.

Morgan ducked his head into the fridge and pulled out two beers.

‘Morgan…’ Emily gestured towards her stomach.

‘Right. Root beer?’ At her assent, he found a bottle of Filbert’s Old Time and twisted it open. They sat at the small kitchen table, trying to ignore Clooney’s whines as he pawed at her leg, roused by the smell of meat.

‘You’ve eaten,’ Morgan told the dog warningly, which did absolutely nothing to stop the whines. ‘Back on the sofa,’ he commanded, which Clooney followed with another whine.

‘At least I know you won’t be overspoiling our child,’ she joked, with a slightly bitter laugh. Neither of them had grown up in environments that were ripe for spoiling, though she knew his family still had a hell of a lot of love going around. She wasn’t quite sure she could say the same about her own family – not without a lot of hesitation.

‘That’s my mother’s job,’ he grinned, and she couldn’t fault that assessment. She had her own – admittedly, hyperbolic – vision of her mother attempting to teach etiquette to an ice-cream smeared toddler. It would be different, that was for sure. That seemed to be the phrase of the year – things were going to be “different.”

Her mind didn’t really know how to process that. Her life had always been characterized by much of the same: flying from country to country, city to city. Nothing ever really changed. Until now. A little disconcerting, really.

‘There’s ice-cream in the freezer,’ Morgan announced, and Emily found herself straightening enthusiastically. She had been way too interested in ice-cream lately. ‘Rocky Road.’

‘Derek Morgan,’ she told him frankly. ‘You are a god among men.’

‘That’s what they tell me,’ he grinned. Emily rolled her eyes. ‘You know, that’s exactly what you said the night I brought you pizza.’

‘Well they say the way to a woman’s heart is through her stomach. Do you remember everything I say?’

He grinned. ‘Just the stuff that makes sense.’

‘So how do tubs of Rocky Road ice-cream fit in with your “seven thousand sit-ups a day” exercise regime?’

‘It’s not for me,’ he winked. ‘I usually go for vanilla or caramel.’

‘Right,’ Emily nodded. ‘Vanilla’s good. But chocolate’s good too.’ Part of her got the feeling that they weren’t really talking about ice-cream anymore. ‘I’m very much in the mood for chocolate right now.’

‘That’s good,’ he said. ‘You want to watch a movie?’ He gestured towards the TV, and Emily hesitated. They couldn’t exactly build a relationship on watching movies every time they went out. Eventually they’d run out of things to watch.

‘No,’ she said decidedly, catching sight of the console next to the DVD player. ‘How about Xbox?’

He looked surprised. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Considering the only game you actually play with any frequency is _Madden NFL_ , I’m pretty sure I can kick your ass at _Call of Duty_ _4_ with my eyes shut.’ She knew that it wasn’t true, but at the same time, it was also the best way to get him into a competitive mode.

‘Is that a challenge?’

‘You bet your ass it is.’ She grabbed the bowl of ice-cream Morgan served out for her, and they relocated to the TV. As it turned out, they were fairly evenly matched, wins and losses coming fairly evenly on both sides of the table. Once fighting against each other lost its appeal, they moved on to fighting zombies instead. The mere fact that he owned _Left 4 Dead_ refuted any claims about not being a nerd that Morgan had ever made.

‘…watch out for the tank.’

‘Yeah, I see it,’ he said, setting on the creature with his shotgun. ‘You ever play this with Garcia? She is…really good. Kevin, too.’

Emily nodded. ‘Yeah, I think if there ever was a zombie apocalypse, I’d want her on my side.’

‘She doesn’t do guns though,’ Morgan added with a slight frown.

‘I guess if it was the zombie apocalypse then everyone would have to start “doing guns,”’ Emily shrugged. It wasn’t a subject that they discussed for very long, because they got enough of the horror and despair at work, and planning for the zombie apocalypse was a lot more interesting when Reid was around, because he inexplicably knew the number of livestock they'd need in order to manage three meals per day.

It was nearly eleven when the first yawn ripped through her – she was usually pretty good at suppressing the signs of tiredness, but apparently having what could reasonably be called a parasite inside of you didn’t really help things much.

‘Want me to take you home?’ Morgan asked, unable to suppress the streak of concern that colored his voice.

‘Mmm,’ Emily agreed. ‘I think I’m finished kicking your ass.’ She stood, stretching, hyperaware that doing so would hike the dress up her thigh. Morgan didn’t seem to mind that much.

He stood too, closing the distance between them. ‘You’re never gonna be finished kicking my ass,’ he breathed, hand brushing her cheek. She let her head tilt slightly as he moved to kiss her. It was soft. Gentle. Nothing like the hard, passionate kisses that had marked their first night together.

It was nice.

‘I had a very nice time,’ she whispered, letting her hand run down his chest. While she wasn’t completely opposed to taking him right there in his living room – the hormones made her sex drive insatiable, after all – she really was exhausted, and as pathetic as it sounded, she didn’t want to take things too quickly. Didn’t want to force herself into a relationship that might not even work at all.

As far as she was aware, neither of them had much experience at long-term relationships: two wrongs didn’t make a right. But love – lust – wasn’t exactly the most logical of things. She wasn’t quite sure that she was ready to use the word “love” in the same sentence as the words “Derek Morgan.” Not that kind of love, at least.

‘Would you like to go out again sometime?’ he asked, with some hesitation, adding. ‘Out, out, I mean.’

‘Absolutely,’ she replied, kind of surprised that her own voice had no hesitation at all. ‘I promise not to freak out on you too much.’

It wasn’t a promise she was entirely sure that she could keep.


	11. Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

‘So how did it go?’

Neither Morgan nor Emily had actually _told_ anyone about the date, both because of the Bureau regulations that frowned upon it, and, more importantly, the fact that Garcia would have nagged them both about it to no end.

Still, it was no surprise that somehow, the technical analyst knew anyway, and was making it the main topic of conversation.

Emily gave her a look.

‘What?’ Garcia asked, indignant. ‘What kind of oracle would I be if I didn’t know every single thing that went on in the halls of Quantico?’

‘An _unobtrusive_ one,’ JJ answered, sliding into the seat opposite Emily.

‘Where’s the fun in that?’ Garcia said, with a mock pout.

The trio was in the mall food court, having lunch. Yesterday morning, Emily had undergone the first clothing emergency in a long time when she’d gotten ready for work, and her pants no longer fit. That might have been because of the fact that most of her work clothes were fairly form-fitting, but eventually, it wouldn’t matter how loose her belt was, or how stretchy the pants were, and she bit the bullet and decided to go shopping for maternity clothes. And as expected, JJ and Garcia had managed to invite themselves along.

Truth told, Emily wasn’t ungrateful for the company. And she wasn’t entirely displeased at the fact that they knew about her date with Morgan – she’d been going over it again and again in her mind, and maybe she’d feel a little less crazy if she had someone to talk to about it.

Emily took a long sip from her milkshake.

‘It was…’ she started, unsure of the right word to use. Thanks to her own insecurities, it had started off as something of a disaster, but they’d salvaged something out of the night, even if it hadn’t been the most conventional date.

Really, though, nothing about the situation was conventional.

‘It was good,’ she said eventually.

‘You don’t sound convinced,’ JJ pointed out, and Emily couldn’t disagree.

‘I had a good time,’ Emily elaborated. ‘But it just feels so weird, to go from being friends for so long to something more than that.’

‘Well,’ Garcia said. ‘Friendship is the most important part of love.’

Emily wrinkled her brow. ‘Let’s not go using the L word just yet.’ That wasn’t to say she hadn’t thought about the L word before. In most cases, though, the L word was lust. There was absolutely a lot of lusting going on. Truth told, there had been lusting going on since the first day she’d joined the Bureau – Derek Morgan was a nice guy, yes, but he was also a major hunk, a fact that everybody seemed to be well aware of.

‘I think you’re the only one that doesn’t want to be using the L word, sweetie,’ Garcia offered, her tone almost apologetic.

‘Right, because my opinion obviously doesn’t matter in matters pertaining to my own love life.’

‘That’s the thing about relationships,’ JJ pointed out. ‘Sometimes, no matter how much you try to convince yourself that you aren’t falling in love, your heart decides otherwise.’

Emily raised an eyebrow. ‘Speaking from experience there, Jayj?’

JJ didn’t blush, but she didn’t answer, either.

‘He’s a great guy,’ Emily conceded. ‘And I love him like family, but…I don’t know if he’s _my_ great guy.’

‘That?’ Garcia asked, stealing a fry from JJ’s tray. ‘That’s what we call denial.’

‘I’m not in denial.’

‘Please,’ Garcia scoffed. ‘If you hadn’t been actively trying to end the relationship since day one, then you’d both be doing the horizontal tango again by now.’

With that, Emily actively sought to turn the conversation in another direction, which was difficult, considering both Garcia and JJ’s persistence. Luckily, lunch was a short affair, and their attention was turned back towards picking out clothes, rather than making judgments about Emily’s love life.

JJ’s previous experience in the matter was useful in recommending brands and styles. Garcia seemed more interested in finding the most interesting color clashes available.

‘Just think,’ the technical analyst said jovially. ‘Soon enough, I can buy for the little pumpkin in there instead.’

A brief, horrifying image flashed into Emily’s mind, of a toddler crawling past a towering pile of clothes as it crashed to the floor. JJ’s apologetic look didn’t help.

‘Nothing Goth,’ Emily said, firmly. She didn’t want her child reliving her own embarrassing mistakes.

Garcia was unperturbed. ‘That still leaves a wide variety of exciting subcultures. Punk. Steampunk. Cyberpunk.’

‘What’s Steampunk?’ JJ asked, frowning. ‘You know what, I don’t really want to know.’

‘Just don’t let her buy Henry a top hat,’ Emily warned JJ, whose frown deepened in confusion.

‘Okay, now I _really_ don’t want to know.’

…

Morgan was insanely curious.

Emily had taken it upon herself to plan their second date, only she had refused to actually tell him what they’d be doing. All she’d told him was to dress casually, and that he should be at her place by eleven.

At night.

It wasn’t as though he’d never been out with a woman this late before. Most of the times he went clubbing, his hook-ups didn’t come until midnight, at least. This was different, though. This was a real date with a woman that he was crazy about, and he was wracking his mind trying to think of something that would necessitate such a late date.

Stargazing?

It seemed too late, even for that.

Plus, he wasn’t even sure if Emily had a telescope.

He knocked on the door, feeling a little strange.

She opened it, wearing a burgundy t-shirt, jeans and a grin. ‘You ready?’

‘Uh…sure,’ he said, frowning. In addition to her purse, she had a cloth bag over one shoulder. ‘So what are we doing?’

‘It’s a surprise,’ she said, and he swore that she seemed to take pleasure in his unawareness. ‘I hope you’ve eaten, because all I have is toast, and that’s for something else.’ He stared at her blankly. ‘The Toast Marketing Board would be horrified,’ she added, before blushing.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘This is my defense mechanism. I nerd out.’

‘What does that have to do with toast?’

‘Okay,’ she relented. ‘I suppose I should warn you, then. We’re going to the E Street Cinema.’ She pause. ‘To see a midnight showing of the Rocky Horror Show.’

‘Like the movie?’ Morgan asked, vaguely remembering the DVD that Garcia had forced him to watch.

‘Um. Kind of,’ she said. ‘Except the live show is more about audience participation. The toast is for throwing at the stage.’

‘Throwing at the stage?’ he repeated, a little dumbfounded.

‘Yeah, it’s…You know, I think it’s probably easier if I don’t explain anything. Except…when they ask who hasn’t seen the show before, I would advise that you keep your mouth shut.’

‘…Okay.’

Morgan was intrigued by the idea – he’d been to movies on dates of course, and even a couple of plays, but the idea of throwing toast at the stage was…weird.

And it got weirder.

It had been a long time since he’d seen the movie, but the performance brought back memories of corsets, fishnets and Emily and Garcia’s off-tune rendition of _Sweet Transvestite_ one night at a karaoke bar _._ Emily wasn’t lying – the audience _did_ throw toast at the stage. And rice. And confetti. And toilet paper, for some inexplicable reason that not even Emily could justify.

Afterwards, it was getting late, so he drove straight back to Emily’s place.

‘So what did you think?’ she asked, and he was positive that she was actually nervous about what his response might be.

‘It was interesting,’ he said.

‘You hated it,’ she interpreted.

‘No, I didn’t.’ He paused, unsure exactly how to put it. ‘It was very different to what I’m used to, and it was kinda weird, but I didn’t hate it.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Emily said, shaking her head. ‘I wasn’t sure whether you’d be interested in this kind of thing…but I guess part of me wanted you to like it because I like it. I guess part of being in a couple is about realizing that you don’t have _everything_ in common.’

‘It’s also about trying new things,’ Morgan pointed out, and Emily didn’t disagree.

‘Maybe next time we can find something that we’ll both enjoy. Something that isn’t “dinner and a movie.”’ She gave him an amused look. ‘Maybe you can come along to the next Dungeons and Dragons session with Garcia, Kevin and Reid.’ She was joking of course. At least, he hoped that she was. That particular suggestion didn’t seem exactly romantic.

He walked her up to her door.

…

‘This is the part where they smile, and say they had a good time, but then never call me again.’

Morgan stared at her. ‘I’d be a pretty shitty guy if I did that, considering the circumstances. And besides, do you want me to just pretend I don’t work at the desk right next to you?’

 _Not for long_ , Emily wanted to say, but didn’t.

‘It’s just…a good majority of the dates I’ve been on in the last few years haven’t even made it to a second date. The last serious relationship I had was before I even joined the BAU.’

‘Well, you know I’m a one-night stand kinda guy.’ He stopped, apparently realizing that those had been absolutely the wrong words to say. ‘Maybe we’ve just been dating the wrong people.’

‘So what…all these failed relationships, and suddenly it’s going to work, because we’re “the right people”?’

‘Would you prefer I said that it was because we both have a phobia of commitment?’

‘I don’t—’ Emily started, before realizing that she probably kinda did. ‘So what, then? What do we do? Break it off, and just be parents? I don’t want that. My parents weren’t exactly Romeo and Juliet.’ Not the best analogy, maybe, but he seemed to understand what she was trying to say.

‘I don’t want us to be the parents that are arguing over who gets to take Timmy to his soccer game.’

Emily wrinkled her brow. ‘Timmy? That’s going on my list of “no’s.”’ She let her face soften. ‘And I don’t either. But I don’t want to be the parents that are clearly miserable in their relationship and only staying together for the kid’s sake. That always ends badly.’

‘Do you think _this_ is going to end badly?’

Emily bit her lip, not quite sure of how to answer the question. Considering the fact that most of her past relationships had been the victim of self-sabotage (and really, tonight’s date had felt almost the same), the easy answer was yes. But there was more at stake than their own happiness. They had a child to think about.

‘I don’t know,’ Emily said eventually. ‘I don’t think either of us are very good at the whole “relationship” thing. It’s not going to be easy.’

Morgan grinned. ‘We catch serial killers for a living, work almost 24/7, have no idea how to raise a kid, and you’re just getting that now, Princess?’ He leaned in and gave her a long, slow kiss. Emily pulled back for air, and returned with even more passion.

Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, they stood unmoving for a few seconds.

‘Do you want to come inside?’ she asked, hesitant.

‘It’s two a.m,’ he said. It was a statement of fact, not a refusal.

‘Do you really want to be driving back out to your place at this time of morning?’

‘Not really,’ Morgan admitted. ‘I can sleep on the sofa.’

Emily gave him a look that was supposed to say, _Don’t be an idiot, Derek_.

‘Forgive me for being a gentleman,’ he said with a shrug.

Emily almost snorted. ‘ _Gentleman_? Need I remind you what happened the last time you slept in my bed.’

‘Which is exactly why I was going to sleep on the sofa.’

‘As tempting as it sounds, I think it’s a little late for anything frisky.’ He accepted the somewhat unspoken invitation, and followed her upstairs, becoming somewhat embarrassed when she started to strip down to her underwear.

‘Emily…’

‘It’s not about sex,’ she said pointedly. ‘Couples see each other naked all the time without needing to jump each other.’

‘I know,’ he said. ‘It’s just…weird, I guess.’

She could feel his eyes burning into her stomach, as though he was desperately trying to gain Superman’s X-Ray vision.

‘You’re showing,’ he said, a little dumbfounded, which was almost endearing.

‘For a while now, kinda,’ she said with a grin. ‘Half my clothes don’t fit anymore.’

‘Can I…?’

‘Um…sure.’ He rested his hand atop the slight bump of her stomach. ‘You won’t feel any kicking for a few more weeks, at least.’ His hand was warm against her skin, and she wondered what it would be like to have that warmth wrapped around her, holding her. It wasn’t sexual, but it was intimate nonetheless.

‘We should probably get some sleep,’ Emily said decidedly, pulling away. It wasn’t that she was entirely against the touch evolving into a night of passion, but the moment didn’t feel right. It was late, and they were tired, and…

And maybe she was just looking for excuses. That self-sabotage all over again.

‘I _want_ this,’ she told him. ‘Just…not tonight.’

He looked at her, almost doubtful. Unsurprising, considering the fact that she was kind of doubtful herself.

He moved his hand upwards, and brushed her hair away from her face. ‘Are you okay with this Emily?’

‘Yes,’ she said automatically. ‘Maybe. I don’t know. I just don’t want to force anything.’

‘Sure,’ he said, ‘I get that.’ He gave her a smile, but there was still disappointment in his eyes. It would be the biggest cliché in the world to say, “it’s not you, it’s me” even if it was kind of true.

She kissed his lips, slowly, passionately. Maybe if words didn’t quite cut it, the kiss would at least reassure him that she wasn’t trying to run away. Too many people in Morgan’s life had betrayed him, and Emily didn’t want to add herself to the list.

Instead, she curled into him when he joined her in bed, and fell asleep with his arm wrapped around her.

…

Emily woke to the smell of pancakes.

She knew that he’d been taking cooking lessons with Reid, but she also knew that his pancakes were already top-notch. For a brief moment she let herself wonder how many times he’d made them for previous girlfriends over the years, but the thought dropped away at the fact that he was in _her_ kitchen making pancakes, and really, her insecurities were started to get a little irritating, even to herself.

Not just _any_ pancakes, she discovered, upon descending the staircase.

 _Chocolate-chip_ pancakes.

With peanut butter.

Apparently, Garcia had been letting a few secrets slip.

‘How did you know that pancakes were my second favorite thing in the entire world?’ she asked, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

‘Well, you ate them pretty damn fast the last time I made them, so I figured they were a good bet this time.’

She gave him a look. ‘Okay, firstly, that’s because you wore me out completely last time – not that I’m complaining. Secondly, they weren’t chocolate-chip with peanut butter, and the only way you could have known about that craving was if you’d been having clandestine meetings with Garcia behind my back.’

‘Well how else am I supposed to impress a beautiful woman?’

Emily rolled her eyes. ‘By being yourself.’

‘Alright then. So. Chocolate-chip pancakes with peanut butter are second favorite. What’s the first?’

‘What? Oh…Long, hot bath after a hard case.’

‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ he said, flipping the pancake on the griddle. Emily slipped one off of the plate next to him, and Morgan gave her a look.

‘I’m eating for two,’ she told him pointedly. His look persisted. ‘They’re just…they’re very good pancakes. I wouldn’t be surprised if you weren’t making a nice Lobster Newburg before long.’

‘That’s not really a good breakfast meal.’

‘No,’ Emily agreed. ‘Plus, I’m not a big fan of lobster, anyway.’

‘Fair enough.’

He finished up the cooking of the pancakes, and set the plate on her kitchen table, along with the jar of peanut butter he’d liberated from the cupboard, and the maple syrup that had been somewhere in the back of the fridge.

‘Do you want to drive in separately?’ Morgan asked, and Emily frowned for a moment before remembering that he’d left his car here the previous night.

‘I don’t see why we need to,’ she said, with a slight shrug. ‘I mean, it’s easier to just take your car. It’s not as if this is a secret to anyone.’

He smiled, and any doubt from the previous night seemed to have disappeared. Emily was almost surprised to realize that even _she_ was feeling more confident about the state of the relationship. The date had helped things a lot, but the night in bed together, and the breakfast had helped even more.

She smiled back.

Maybe things weren’t going to end so horribly after all.


	12. Chapter Eleven

Chapter Eleven

As the team flew back from Hutchison, Kansas, Emily found herself more exhausted than she had been in a long time. Part of that was the effect pregnancy was having on her sleeping habits, part of it was the fact that she’d practically given up caffeine, and part of it was the two week, seven corpse case they’d just come off of. Technically speaking, she was on desk duty until her transfer position became available, but considering the fact that most of their job was putting puzzle pieces together, it didn’t make much of a difference to the working schedule.

Mostly, she was looking forward to going home to where there weren’t six people, one of them on a video link, insisting that she should go back to the hotel and get some sleep. She was completely unsurprised when Morgan slid into the seat opposite her and said, ‘So how’re you doing?’

‘I had plenty of sleep last night,’ she told him bluntly, which was an understatement – because she’d slept so late, and because no-one had come in to wake her up, they hadn’t actually _left_ Hutchison until well past noon.

‘That’s not what I asked,’ he said with a tired grin. Emily rolled her eyes, but relented.

‘It feels harder.’ Her voice was quiet. ‘Not just the bodies, or the families, or the complete and utter pointlessness of it all. Our reaction to it, and the fact that we keep doing this, and it all just stays the same, and it’s almost as though we’re giving up everything for nothing in return.’ She didn’t tell him that part of her felt maybe it was the right idea to get out of the game before it was too late. It was an issue she was still unsure about.

He leaned over and took her hand. ‘I wouldn’t say we got nothing out of it.’ Emily’s heart almost cracked in two at his words. She was pretty sure she hadn’t done anything so great in her life to deserve the affections of Derek Morgan. ‘Did you want to come around tonight?’ he asked, not letting go of her hand. ‘I’m pretty sure Clooney will be excited to see the only person who spoils him more than I do.’

‘That’d be fantastic,’ Emily agreed, without the slightest bit of hyperbole. She didn’t particularly care that the rest of the team might have been listening in, even if she and Derek had yet to officially announce the fact that they were making attempts towards a real relationship. That said, though, she’d be pretty surprised if the team hadn’t worked it out already anyway.

It didn’t stop them from regressing to adolescence; on their way out of the bullpen, once they’d returned to Quantico, Rossi tipped her a wink, and Garcia exploded into a fit of giggles. Never mind the fact that they hadn’t actually slept together again yet. ‘You two have fun,’ JJ told them with a smile, and Emily rolled her eyes.

‘You’d think we were getting ready to elope,’ she muttered, and she was almost relieved when he didn’t follow up her comment with a suggestion that they _should_ elope. It didn’t matter how well things were going between them – the mere thought of marriage was enough to make Emily want to run for the hills. That terrified her more than anything.

Forty-five minutes later, she pulled into Derek’s driveway; he’d beaten her there by a few minutes, thanks to some unlucky traffic light timing. Clooney came rushing out the back door to greet her, but there was no sign of Morgan. Thinking that he had probably just gone to the bathroom, she let herself in, and slipped off her boots. The feet swelling hadn’t started yet, but they were aching nonetheless.

‘Derek?’ she called out, after realizing that he was taking way too long to be just using the toilet.

‘In the bathroom,’ he called out. ‘Come here.’

She followed his voice cautiously, half afraid that he was going to ask her to grab a roll of toilet paper. But no. The lights were dimmed, and he’d filled the tub, bubbles nearly flowing over the edge.

‘Long hot bath after a hard case, right?’ he asked. ‘You just relax, and I’ll get dinner started.’ It was way too early for him to be cooking dinner, but she figured he wanted to give her some space. The problem was, she didn’t want space anymore.

‘You have frozen leftovers?’ she asked him. She knew he’d been cooking a lot with Reid, freezing the excess for later consumption.

‘Sure.’

‘Good.’ She grabbed his shirt collar and pulled him towards her, locking his lips in a tight, breathless kiss. ‘Because you are seriously making me hot right now.’

He pulled away. ‘Em-…wait.’ Her heart skipped a beat until he moved to push the door shut. ‘Really don’t want Clooney walking in on this.’

She grinned. ‘You are a perfect gentleman, Derek Morgan,’ she murmured, her mouth against his neck. Her fingers went straight to his buttons, trembling slightly, and she was vaguely aware of the fact that he was returning the favor. The last time they’d done this, she’d ended up pregnant. Of course, she didn’t regret that, especially not after the last two months she’d spent with Morgan.

She took her time, letting her hands run over the well-sculpted ab muscles, the firm pecs. His nipple was hard underneath her touch, and if the bulge in his pants was anything to go by, something else was rapidly getting hard as well.

The first time around had been more about gratification, and she’d paid less attention to his body than she would have liked to. Now, though, she realized that Garcia’s saucy nicknames didn’t do him a lick of justice.

‘God damn, Morgan. You could intimidate unsubs into confession with this body,’ she blurted out, and the resulting grin from Morgan was almost worth the embarrassment at the sheer cheesiness of the line.

‘I think I prefer yours,’ he told her frankly, his fingers brushing her back, teasing the clasp of her bra. He was giving her a chance to turn him down, she realized, which really, only made her want him more. She gave her seal of approval by going to work on his belt buckle.

Her bra fell to the floor, and she paused briefly as Derek’s hands cupped her breasts. They were somewhat larger than they had been, thanks to the hormones and the fact that she’d been eating roughly five times as much ice-cream as she used to.

‘You’re beautiful,’ he murmured, hunching slightly to let his lips take over from his hands. ‘Condom?’ he asked, and Emily started at him.

‘I think it’s a little late for that, don’t you?’ she deadpanned.

‘Just wondering,’ he shrugged.

‘Maybe we should do this in the tub,’ Emily replied – Derek was bending kind of awkwardly, and things would probably go a lot smoother if they were lying down.

His hands dropped to his pants in order to finish what Emily had started. Emily let her own pants fall to the ground, and for a moment they both stood there, completely naked. Baring mind, soul and body to each other. She was half surprised he hadn’t run away by now, but that was a reflection on her, rather than on him. She was even more surprised that _she_ hadn’t run away.

Emily stepped forward.

Their lips locked in another kiss, and she let her hand curl around his erection, hyperaware of the fact that her stomach was starting to bulge in a way that she found unattractive, but Morgan couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of.

He lowered her gently into the bath, soapy water sloshing over the sides. Half a dozen scents permeated her nostrils, most of which she couldn’t differentiate from one another. ‘Did you go shopping for bath salts?’

‘Well I figured plain old bubble bath wouldn’t quite cut it.’ He followed her in, displacing even more water. They could always fill it up again afterwards.

She let her hands run down his chest as he paid closer, more careful attention to her breasts, using his lips, his tongue, his teeth, the oversensitive flesh making the experience that much more satisfying. She held his head close, making sure not to drown him in the soapy water. His right hand drifted down to her thigh, teasing her lightly before pushing a finger inside. He had strong hands – she could have deduced that just from the way he held her – and thrust with long, hard strokes. Emily clutched at him tighter, trying not to buck her head backwards into the edge of the tub. She gave a gasp as he slid another finger in, his thumb brushing her clit, and his lips encircling her nipple all the while.

Emily cried out his name, and it seemed so perfect on her lips, like some stupid, wonderful cliché. ‘Oh my God, Derek,’ she muttered, as he pulled away. ‘I know pregnancy is supposed to give me some kind of insatiable sex drive, but if you keep getting me off so quickly, then I’m going to be unconscious for the next four days.’

‘I feel like I need to test that theory,’ he said, catching her lips in hard, messy kiss.

‘You sure you can keep up?’

‘Let’s find out,’ he grinned, lining their bodies up. She curled her arms around his neck as he thrust into her in one fast move. His size took a little getting used to. They both came quickly, and the short-lived nature of the encounter reminded Emily just how exhausted they were, though – neither of them would be running a marathon any time soon.

Emily leaned back into Morgan’s arms as he turned on the taps – there was probably just as much water on the floor as there was in the tub.

‘That was nice,’ Emily said, her words soft. ‘This is nice.’

‘Yeah,’ Morgan agreed. ‘This is nice. Maybe we should have done this four years ago.’

She gave a short laugh. ‘I don’t think this would have worked out four years ago.’

‘No?’

‘“All love that has not friendship for its base, is like a mansion built upon sand.”’ Emily froze, realizing that she’d just used the “L” word. If Morgan had noticed – either the words, or her reaction, then he didn’t say anything. She was fooling herself if she thought he _hadn’t_ noticed.

‘Ella Wheeler Wilcox, right?’

‘Right,’ she laughed, her horror at her carelessness overcome by amusement at the fact that he was familiar with what wasn’t exactly the most masculine kind of poetry. ‘“Laugh and the world laughs with you. Weep, and you weep alone.”’

‘You think that’s true?’ he asked, and Emily gave a shrug.

‘Sometimes I wish it was,’ she told him, thinking of Matthew, of Italy. Maybe things would have turned out more favorably if he hadn’t helped her.

Morgan shook his head. ‘I kind of wish someone had been there for me, when…’ he trailed off, and she knew he was thinking about Carl Buford. Finally, he said. ‘“Ella”…That’s a nice name.’

Recognizing the blatant subject change, Emily was willing to comply. ‘How about Victoria?’

‘I dated a girl named Victoria once.’

‘So we have to discount the names of all the girls you’ve dated? That leaves like…two names.’ He gave her a playful nudge.

‘She turned out to be…let’s just say it didn’t end well. Mia?’

‘Mmm,’ Emily hummed. ‘Mia Morgan – sounds like a Marvel superhero. Eric?’

‘Eric’s good,’ Morgan nodded. ‘But I am not going to fuel your inexplicable obsession with CHiPs.’

‘That obsession is between me and Ponch. Montana Wildhack.’

‘I am not naming our child after a fictional porn star.’ Emily rolled her eyes – it wasn’t as though she’d been serious anyway.

‘Optimus Prime,’ she continued. ‘James Tiberius. Zeus.’

‘Now you’re just being silly.’ He kissed the top of her head. ‘Christopher.’ His voice sounded a little more serious, and it took Emily a few seconds to figure out why.

‘Your father’s name?’

‘Yeah.’

She let that sink in. ‘It’s a good name. I like it.’ She cleared her throat. ‘What about Matthew…for a middle name, I mean.’

‘Christopher Matthew Morgan.’ He tested the name out. ‘That’s a good name…Unless – did you want to hyphenate the surname? Prentiss-Morgan? Or Morgan-Prentiss?’

Emily shook her head. ‘No. This kid has enough problems going for them without bringing politics into the mix.’

‘How do you mean?’ Morgan asked.

‘Trust me,’ Emily told him. ‘When you grow up with a name that people recognize, they start making judgment calls without ever having met you.’ She couldn’t hide the bitterness in her voice, and she wasn’t entirely sure that she wanted to. Morgan needed to understand. ‘We still need a girl’s name,’ she added, taking her own turn at executing an abrupt change of subject. They were due to find out the baby’s gender fairly soon, all things considered, but Emily had been in the FBI long enough to know that things didn’t always go to plan.

Morgan swirled his hand in the water, letting his palm come to rest on her stomach, his other hand interlocking with hers. For a girl’s name, they settled on Abigail Alexandra, and Emily refused to make a comment about saving the leftover name for their next child.

‘You’re starting to prune,’ he told her, his hand squeezing hers tight.

‘I don’t care,’ she replied, and they stayed there together until long after the bubbles had disappeared.

 **...**

The next morning brought pancakes, which were slowly becoming some kind of a tradition between them. Emily mixed the batter, and Morgan raised an eyebrow when she tossed in a liberal amount of chocolate chips.

Seeing his expression, she said, a little defensively, ‘Extra Chocolate-chip pancakes are the best kind of pancakes. _Everything_ tastes better with extra chocolate.’

‘ _Everything?_ ’

Emily winked. ‘Everything.’

Morgan shook his head. ‘Damn. I think we’re going to need to test that theory, too.’

‘Pity we’re out of chocolate,’ she shrugged, setting the bowl of pancake mixture on the counter, next to where Morgan was watching the frying pan heat up. He gave her a mock pout, but reminded himself to buy some form of chocolate syrup next time he went grocery shopping. He didn’t know whether or not Emily would be into that kind of thing, but that was what the dating game was all about. Discovering new things about each other. ‘Though,’ Emily added. ‘Reid told me that eating chocolate at least three times a week halves the risk of preeclampsia.’

She dipped her finger into the pancake mix and held it towards him. Uncooked, it tasted mainly of flour and chocolate chips, but Morgan knew that the taste was not the point of the exercise. ‘We haven’t christened the kitchen yet,’ Emily told him decidedly.

Morgan raised an eyebrow. ‘You want to have sex in the kitchen right now?’ he asked. ‘Don’t you think it would be better to wait until after pancakes?’

Emily considered the thought. ‘After pancakes,’ she agreed. ‘But remember, this is probably going to be the only time in our lives where I’m begging you for sex five times a day.’ It seemed strange that they’d only really started having sex again the previous night. It was like the seal had been broken, and her libido – hell, his too – was suddenly a free-for-all.

‘I dunno,’ he said. ‘I’m pretty addictive.’ But still, when the plates had been rinsed and were in the sink, he didn’t complain when she started unbuttoning his pajama shirt. More specifically, his pajama shirt that _she_ was wearing.

He cast an appreciative gaze over the newly revealed flesh. It baffled him to think that once upon a time he hadn’t been so enamored, so in complete and utter lust with the woman before him.

‘Are you going to join in, or will I need to take care of this myself?’ Emily asked, pressing her naked form against him. He felt the blood rushing to his crotch. “Join in”was the unanimous response from body, mind and soul. He slid his pants off, glad that he had gone commando last night.

Because of their height disparity, he lifted her gently to the countertop, its surface still bearing collateral damage from their pancake mixing session, thanks to an impromptu flour war. He let his hands run up and down her thighs, and then over her stomach, relishing the softness of her skin. ‘This is incredibly unhygienic,’ she muttered, but made no signs of changing her mind.

Emily’s body arched as he pushed himself up, inside of her, and she gave a soft moan. Morgan settled one hand on her hip, keeping her steady, while with the other he brushed his finger against her clit – the movements a rhythm in tandem with the slower beat of his thrusts.

The climax was a little sticky, and it was a good thing they had to clean up the pancakes anyway. Morgan volunteered for that task while Emily went upstairs to shower. She was living out of her go-bag and the clothes that had been periodically left behind in his laundry hamper, but she’d been coming over so often lately that almost half her wardrobe was here already anyway.

Hopefully, though, if today went as planned, then the move would be made a little more permanent.

It was a big, huge, life-changing step – Derek Morgan was very much used to the bachelor life, and his habits reflected that. He left his towels on the floor, his socks didn’t always make it all the way to the laundry, and even with Emily here so often, he preferred ordering pizza to putting a roast in the oven.

He met her on his way up the stairs, tank top and sweatpants clinging to her still wet body. He could see the outline of her baby bump clearly, a lot more accentuated than it had been even just a few weeks ago. ‘Hey,’ he grinned. ‘I’ll be down in a bit – big plans for today.’

Emily raised an eyebrow, tousling her hair with a towel. ‘Plans?’

‘Well as tempting as it sounds, I didn’t really want to lie around the house all day having sex.’

‘That does sound tempting,’ she agreed.

Morgan kissed her on the forehead. ‘I want to take you somewhere, only it’s a surprise.’

Her eyes widened. ‘A surprise?’ Morgan gathered from the somewhat terse, professional relationship between Emily and her mother that there hadn’t been that many good surprises during her childhood years.

‘A nice surprise,’ he amended.

He showered quickly, dressing for renovation. He’d made good progress on the house over the last couple of months, but there was still a lot to be done.

‘Where are we going?’ Emily asked as they pulled out of the driveway. Morgan gave a laugh.

‘Do you even know what the word “surprise” means?’

She crossed her arms and gave him a dangerously “Prentiss” look. The accentuated stubbornness, he figured, would be hanging around for the next five months, at least.

‘We are going to Fairfax,’ he relented. ‘That’s all I’m saying.’ It wasn’t quite enough to satiate her curiosity, but it was enough to keep her from demanding he stop the car and let her out. The mood swings, too, would be hanging around for a while. If she were anyone else, he might have balked at the thought, but he had seen Emily Prentiss at her best and her worst, and the best was damn well worth sticking around for.

As they drove through the suburban neighborhood, Emily’s eyes were fixed on the passing houses, no doubt attempting to profile their destination based on the clues available. If she figured it out – and he was pretty sure that she probably had – she didn’t say anything.

His suspicions were confirmed when they pulled to a stop in the quiet street; she was quiet, and he could see the tears glistening at the corner of her eyes.

‘Derek…’ she said softly, and even with all of his own profiling experience, he couldn’t tell if she was happy or sad.

‘Not yet.’ He unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car, moving around to the passenger’s side. She was still sitting there, unmoving, and he wondered if he’d made a mistake doing this so soon. Still – he didn’t want to leave it too late, otherwise they’d be into the third trimester, and moving then would be a complete bitch.

‘You don’t have to say anything,’ he told her. ‘I just want to show you.’

Emily nodded, letting herself out of the car. Her eyes widened as she took in the two-story house, the backyard: a family home.

‘Please tell me you didn’t buy this house, Derek.’

He frowned. ‘I bought it – six months ago.’

She seemed to relax slightly at the words, as though buying a house for them to live in was somehow different to buying a house to renovate and then live in.

He dug in his pocket for the key, trying to keep his eye on Emily as well as make sure he didn’t trip over the step and crack his head open. She was walking slowly, as if trying to take in every detail.

It was a little dusty inside – he hadn’t been there in a few weeks, thanks to his newly active social life – and there was still a fair bit to be done, but he gave her the tour anyway.

It ended in the master bedroom, with Emily staring out the sash window, and Morgan standing in the doorway.

‘This is a big step,’ she said finally.

‘So’s having a kid,’ he shrugged. There was a moment’s silence. ‘Do you like the house?’

‘It’s beautiful,’ Emily said softly. ‘It still needs some work, though,’ she added, a little louder, and in something of a dry tone.

‘I’ve been a little busy,’ he replied, at the same time relieved that she’d recovered enough from the shock to put her deadpan humor into play. ‘I know this is…a little soon, I guess, but we both know what it’s like to grow up in a house without both parents around. I don’t want that for our child, and I know you don’t either.’

She nodded, head bowed, but didn’t say anything for several minutes. Finally: ‘Where am I going to put my hot tub?’

Morgan released the breath he didn’t realize that he’d been holding. He walked over to the window, and pulled Emily into his chest, kissing her forehead. ‘You are the most amazing woman in the world.’

She turned slightly in his arms, head tilting upwards. He leant down to kiss her. Their lips crushed together twice, before she pulled away gently.

‘I think your mother would have something to say about that.’

‘I think my mother would agree with me – she’s been hounding me for grandchildren since I left college.’

Emily gave a short laugh. ‘Grandbaby needs a place to sleep. ‘

‘That’s why we’re here.’ He led her back into the room that he’d envisioned as a nursery. It remained unpainted, because he didn’t want to go ahead and make decisions without Emily’s input, which was the main reason he’d slowed down on the renovations. ‘I was thinking blue. It’s a nice color, even for a girl.’

‘Blue is good,’ Emily agreed. ‘Versatile.’

They spent the rest of the day planning out colors, and furniture placement, and all the other little details.

‘We might have an excess of furniture,’ Emily pondered. ‘I don’t know what we’re going to do with two lounge suites.’

‘It’s a big house,’ Morgan reasoned in reply. ‘We have enough room for all our stuff.’

‘I don’t know.’ Emily shook her head. ‘I have a lot of crap. My condo is practically a display house. And we still need to buy baby stuff.’

‘We’ll sort it out,’ Morgan assured her. ‘Even if it means having a yard sale.’

Emily’s expression turned to one of horror. ‘Oh God. A _yard_ sale. I’ve never had a yard sale – it’s like the true marker of domesticity.’

‘Domestic doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to kick ass and take names. I must admit, FBI mom is a _very_ sexy look.’

‘FBI dad is pretty sexy too,’ she told him matter-of-factly. ‘Kicking in doors…tackling unsubs. It’s a wonder I didn’t try to jump your bones years ago.’ She gave a pause. ‘I guess this means it’s time to tell the team. I mean…they already know, but we should probably tell them anyway.’

‘They can help move furniture.’

‘What still needs to be done?’ Emily asked him, letting her hand run across the unpainted walls of the room that would soon be a nursery. It lit a hopeful fire inside of him; as though she was eager to move in as soon as possible. But then, it was about practicality as well.

‘Mostly little things. Stuff that could probably get knocked over in a weekend, if I put my back into it.’

‘Good thing I’m dressed for it,’ Emily said, and Morgan was a little surprised at first, but then he remembered who he was talking to.

‘You really want to help?’

‘Well if I’m going to be living here too, I want to able to say that I actually did something. I kinda feel a little inadequate here, Derek.’

‘You were my motivation for most of this,’ he told her matter-of-factly, and he saw the blush that crept onto her otherwise pale skin.

‘It’s weird, hearing that,’ she admitted. ‘I don’t…growing up, my parents were focused mainly on their careers – I don’t resent them for that, but I’m not used to people doing things for me like this.’ She looked downwards, trying to avoid his gaze. Morgan lifted her chin, and laid a soft kiss on her lips.

‘Whatever happens, you and our child are my priority, Emily. Remember that.’ The words seemed to comfort her considerably.

‘So where _can_ we put the hot tub?’ she asked, eyebrow raised, and he had to remind himself that there would be no watery shenanigans for at least another few months.

‘Outside?’ he ventured. ‘There’s probably room on the patio, and Clooney hates water so he won’t go near it. Or maybe we could build a gazebo or something for it.’

‘Maybe,’ she agreed, but her voice was somewhat distance. Maybe the talk of gazebos was a little too much too soon. He was almost surprised that _he_ wasn’t so freaked out about things. Maybe he was a little more ready than he’d given himself credit for. Now _that_ was a scary thought.

‘Four bedrooms,’ he said, changing the subject quickly. ‘One master, one baby room, one spare. We could turn the fourth into an office.’

‘Or,’ she countered. ‘Or, we could make the rumpus room the office, and use the basement for a rumpus room. I mean…do we even have anything to _put_ in a rumpus room? Aside from your weights set?’

Morgan tried to think of something, but nothing came to mind immediately. ‘I guess if we get a playpen or something it could go in there, but then maybe it’d be better to keep that on the ground floor.’

‘Maybe,’ Emily echoed. Her voice was a little distant. Morgan gave her a slight nudge.

‘Hey. Everything okay?’

‘Yeah,’ she nodded. ‘Yeah. It’s just…Six months ago, if someone told me I’d be moving in with Derek Morgan…It’s just a little…surreal.’

‘I hear that.’ He pulls her into his arms, laying a kiss against her neck. ‘You want to go home, and we can make pancakes for dinner?’

‘We had pancakes for breakfast,’ she told him.

‘I know,’ he grinned. ‘I also know what we did _after_ pancakes.’

‘Oh, Derek,’ Emily said. ‘I like the way you think.’


	13. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank-you to whoever nominated this story for Best Work-In-Progress at the 2010 Criminal Minds Fanfiction Awards. To check out all the awesome fic on offer, go here: http://community.livejournal.com/cmfanficawards/9510.html

Chapter Twelve

The next day they had free – two cases and almost fifteen days later – they went back to the house. Emily’s exhaustion was increasing almost every day, and the constant unsubs were definitely not helping. For the first time, she was almost _relieved_ that she was transferring out. If nothing else, Counterterrorism would prove to be a more structured environment. Less flying, and hopefully, a less invasive timetable. If nothing else, it would ensure that she and Morgan weren’t always away at the same time.

They’d brought an old mattress over to throw down in the main bedroom – useful for naps and middle-of-the-day sex as they brought the house up to living standards.

‘I think we could probably move in pretty soon,’ Morgan said decidedly, staring up at the bedroom ceiling. He rolled over to face Emily, who was still coming down from the orgasm he’d just given her. She saw the tenting of the sheet at his crotch, a reminder that his needs had not yet been taken care of.

‘Yeah?’ she breathed. Morgan let his hand ride up under the cotton sheet to rub her belly. Emily felt a soft kicking in response.

‘Baby boy thinks so too.’

Emily smiled at the words. The previous ultrasound appointment had confirmed that the gender of their child, even if she’d already been thinking so based on the strength and consistency of the kicks against her stomach.

This kid was going to be one hell of a punter. Unsurprising, considering Morgan’s genetics. The only problem was making sure that he stayed the hell away from law enforcement.

They both knew the horrors of the job way too intimately to want to inflict in on their child.

‘All of the major stuff is done,’ Morgan continued. ‘And everything else is minor enough that we can get done after we’re in.’

‘Absolutely,’ Emily agreed. ‘I know I don’t want to be moving boxes when I’m the size of a whale.’

There was a long pause, and Emily had the feeling that Morgan was about to launch into his protective, man of the family mode.

‘Baby…’ he started, and Emily gave him a look. ‘Emily…I don’t think you should be moving boxes at _all_ in your condition.’

This was a part of Morgan that she did not like as much as the others. He was a sweet, caring guy, but he also had the propensity to be chauvinistic, aggressive, and on some occasions, downright unpleasant.

‘ _Derek_ , as much as I appreciate your concern, I am still perfectly capable of lifting.’

‘Emily, I just…I don’t want you hurting our child.’ The look on his face said that he regretted the words almost as soon as he’d chosen them, but that didn’t stop Emily from giving him a glare, and ripping the sheet covers off.

It was a low blow, and he knew it.

She stood, refusing to look at him, lest he saw the tears that were starting to form at the corner of her eyes.

Where the _fuck_ was her underwear?

‘Emily.’ She hadn’t heard him stand, but all of a sudden he was behind her, a hand on her shoulder. ‘Emily, I’m sorry.’

But Emily couldn’t forgive him so easily. ‘You think I would _ever_ risk the life of our child like that, Morgan?’ He bent his head down, trying to catch her gaze, but she shied away from him. ‘Every single _fucking_ day, I regret what I did. I would _never_ hurt our son.’

 _Our son_. The words hit her hard – maybe if things had gone differently, she would have had another child. Another son.

 _Why the fuck was she_ crying _so much?_

‘I know that, Emily.’ He wrapped his arm around her still bare shoulders, and she couldn’t help but lean into his chest. Somehow, his arousal had managed to persist through their argument, the result of which she could feel pressed up against her thigh. ‘I know. I’m sorry. I…It would make me feel more comfortable if you considered the option.’

 _He’s right, you know_ , said a voice inside Emily’s head, and she tried to ignore it, but she couldn’t. He might have been that sometimes chauvinistic guy, but this time he was right.

‘Okay,’ she sighed, not quite willing to actually say the words, “you’re right.” ‘I just…I don’t want to lose my independence. And admitting that I can’t _do_ something like that, well…it scares me.’

‘Emily...’ There was a long pause. ‘You are the most beautiful, amazing, wonderful woman that I know. You are smart, funny – maybe a little stubborn – and having a baby won’t change any of that.’

‘But I’ll still lose my independence,’ she concluded, not ignorant of the enormity of the compliments he’d just given her. ‘But I guess that goes hand in hand with parenthood.’

‘Put it this way,’ Morgan said. ‘We’d have to pay Garcia to _not_ kidnap our child, plus, we have my mother, and your parents…’

‘Reid,’ Emily added, which caused both of them to burst into laughter. ‘Could you imagine Reid trying to change a diaper? He’d be reciting the history of sewerage, or something.’

It was another one of those things that would benefit best from discussion at a later date, especially considering the fact that Morgan was probably starting to consider the situation as something of a cock-blocker.

She turned around to face him, hoping that the look in her eyes was enough to clue him in on the fact that she was interested in continuing their lunch break activities. At this point, his erection had softened, but if that meant more foreplay, then Emily wasn’t overly concerned. She took him in her hand, stroking softly.

‘I guess I should assert my independence, huh?’ She hooked her legs around one of his, edging him back towards the mattress. ‘Lie down.’

Morgan did so with an amusing amount of enthusiasm. She stroked him again, the light touches a mere appetizer compared to what she had planned. Still, the touches served their main function, which was to bring him back to full hardness.

Morgan reached up, presumably, to touch her breasts, but she swatted them away. ‘No touching.’

He gave a small sound that could have been a whimper, but Emily was far too distracted to notice. She reoriented her position slightly, glad that her stomach had not grown too big that she couldn’t do what she was about to.

He jerked almost violently at the first touch of her tongue.

‘Oh, God,’ he moaned, which Emily took as encouragement. She didn’t move quickly, instead familiarizing her mouth with the tip of his cock. She kept it up for almost two minutes, hyperaware that Morgan was starting to get slightly frustrated, which in turn only aroused her more.

Still.

She wasn’t a sadist by any stretch of the word, and in her experience, sexual pleasure was very much a two-way street. Morgan had been more than cooperative earlier, so reciprocation was her number one priority.

There would be time for teasing another day.

It had taken her a long time to prevent herself from vomiting after doing something like this, but goddamn was it worth it. She was vaguely aware of Morgan’s hands clutch for purchase on the mattress, grasping handfuls of sheet as she drove him insane.

‘Em…baby, I’m gonna—’

Emily briefly considered pulling off, but decided against it. He made a sound of satisfaction, and his entire body went limp, like a guitar string snapping. His release simultaneously burned and tingled her throat, but she was fairly certain that most of that was psychosomatic.

She landed with a bounce on the mattress next to him.

‘Oh my God, Emily,’ he breathed. ‘Why the hell didn’t we do this five years ago?’

‘I think we went over that,’ Emily told him, amused.

‘I’m pretty sure we’re gonna keep going over it every time we have sex.’

‘So a lot, then?’

‘God, I hope so,’ he breathed, and Emily laughed.

‘Well savor it now, because once this kid is born, I think we’ll be a little too busy for the sex side of things.’

‘It’ll be worth it,’ Morgan said matter-of-factly, and he said it with such confidence, that it was hard to remember that this time last year, he’d been the guy that was going home with a different woman every night. ‘Hey,’ he added with a smile, rolling over to kiss her shoulder. ‘I love you.’

Emily’s heart skipped a beat.

 _I love you._

 _He just said_ I love you.

It mightn’t have been such a big deal, only no-one had ever said those words to her before. Not in that way, anyway – sure, her parents had told her, and Garcia a couple of times, when she was being extra flirtatious, but never a person that she had been seeing romantically.

If she had time to think about it, it might have been pathetic.

But she didn’t think about it.

Instead, she smiled back, and said, ‘I love you too,’ like it was the easiest thing in the goddamn world. It took her half a second to realize that she meant it.

‘I love you,’ she said again, and she kissed him passionately on the lips.

Sleep came easy.

…

It felt like a normal day.

Monday morning; wake up, drink coffee, drive to work. Sometimes there was a case. Sometimes there was paperwork. Sometimes, there were consults.

Today, there was none of that.

Today was her last day in the Behavioral Analysis Unit.

While there wasn’t exactly the time – or the budget – for a goodbye party (the kind Emily would have refused to attend anyway, on principle), Garcia _had_ insisted on a cake.

The whole thing was bittersweet.

Emily knew that she had made the right call – for everyone’s sake – but she loved the team like they were family, and the job itself, if not enjoyable, as such, at the very least had its moments of comparative satisfaction.

Still. It wasn’t as though she was going to another city, or another state. She’d be two floors away – visiting was not an impossibility. That was what she kept telling herself. Maybe one day she’d believe it.

She had left the packing of her desk until the last minute, as though by some miracle, Strauss would change her mind, and decide that really, Emily was better off in the BAU after all.

No such luck.

She packed the last of her things into the box, wondering why it was so easy to fit five years of the BAU into something less than 2 cubic feet. Of course, the Bureau was moving towards a paperless operation, with tablets and smartphones replacing files three inches thick, but she still figured that her desk should have been a little fuller.

Admittedly, a lot of the build-up was the files that would remain in the Unit – consults and basic profiles that would probably get handed off to Morgan or Reid. The rest of it (computer and lamp aside) was mostly stationary, personal items, and a couple of old college textbooks on forensic psychology that would be going back on her bookshelf at home.

‘Hey there, warrior Prentiss.’ Garcia perched herself on the edge of Emily’s desk – soon to be some other agent’s desk. ‘More cake?’

‘Thanks.’ Emily took the proffered paper plate and plastic fork, not quite able to dull the mournful look as she stared back over at the empty desk.

‘There but for the grace of God, huh?’ Garcia mused, and Emily bit back a laugh. That was one way of putting it. If not for one single night – one single lapse in judgment (though she still hesitated to call it such) Emily would be sitting at the desk, going over files, or joining Morgan in teasing Reid. Of course, it also meant that she wouldn’t be pregnant, and, just as importantly, she wouldn’t have fallen in love with Derek _freaking_ Morgan.

‘So how _are_ things going with my hunk o’ chocolate love?’ Garcia asked, apparently sensing Emily’s train of thought.

‘They’re going well…I think,’ Emily answered.

Garcia gave her a look. ‘You _think_? That doesn’t exactly sound very optimistic, sweetcheeks.’

Emily gave a slight chuckle. ‘I _think_ it’s going well because I don’t have anything to compare it to,’ she elaborated. ‘This is the first relationship I’ve ever been in that’s gotten this far.’

 _Yeah, that’s definitely kinda pathetic._

‘Does he make your heart skip a beat every time he does something sweet? Do you smile, every time you see him, just because he’s there? Do you wonder how on earth you could have ever lived without being with him?’

‘Yeah,’ Emily said eventually. It surprised her how little she had to think about it.

‘Then things are going well,’ Garcia told her matter-of-factly. ‘Any problems you have – small beans, compared to the good stuff.’

‘Thanks, Garcia.’ Emily smiled. Somehow, the technical analyst always seemed to know how to cheer her up.

‘Now go on,’ Garcia said, gesturing towards the paper plate. ‘Eat some cake. It’s the one time where you can eat as much as you like without feeling too guilty.’

‘I am _not_ looking forward to trying to lose this pregnancy weight,’ Emily groaned, but followed Garcia’s suggestion anyway. It was her farewell cake, and damned if she wasn’t going to take advantage of that fact.

The afternoon went by far too quickly.

Emily was due to meet with SSA Ramirez – Unit Chief of the Counterintelligence Division at three o’clock. It wouldn’t take all that long to take her box over to the elevator. The remainder of her time in the Behavioral Analysis Unit would be spent on goodbyes.

Goodbye was a really sucky word for it.

But really, considering the fact that she was about to move in with Derek Morgan, and the fact that she went out with Garcia and JJ, every now and then (pregnancy permitting) and she _still_ got into those “which Doctor is better” conversations with Reid, it wasn’t goodbye.

No, it was “we can still be friends, as long as you’re not busy hunting a kidnapper in Omaha.”

There was a semi-awkward conversation, ending in a just as awkward hug with Reid, and one of a lighter tone with JJ. Hotch was in a meeting with Strauss, for the moment, so Emily made her way down to Rossi’s office.

‘You got a minute?’ she asked, knocking on his open door.

Rossi looked up from his paperwork, glasses on the tip of his nose. ‘Sure, come in.’

She took a seat in the chair opposite him, but didn’t say anything straight away.

‘Everything okay?’ he asked, with a frown.

‘Yeah, I just…’ She wasn’t quite sure how to say it. ‘Before I leave, I just wanted to say thanks for being there for me…there aren’t many people that know my secrets, but you supported me through thick and thin, so…thanks.’ She’d never really been all that good with words, and she was almost positive that she was blushing, but Rossi just smiled.

‘We’re going to miss you, you know that?’

‘So I’ve been told,’ she said with a laugh. ‘Emphatically, by several people.’

‘Well don’t dismiss it so easily.’

‘I won’t.’

…

On her return to the bullpen from Hotch’s office (where Strauss had given her a look that was a confusing mix between disappointment and disdain) Emily found Morgan standing at her desk. Reid was off getting coffee (though she wondered if he was trying to avoid getting in the way of things) but Garcia was trying to pretend like she wasn’t about to eavesdrop.

‘Saving me for last?’

‘Well I was hoping I could make you carry my box,’ she said, with a grin. ‘You know, seeing as how you don’t want me doing any heavy lifting.’ He grinned, and Emily added in a stage whisper, ‘Then maybe we can make out in the elevator.’

‘Sounds like a plan.’

Garcia, who had been watching them with some amusement, pounced on Emily, pulling her into a bear hug. ‘Don’t be a stranger, okay?’

‘Well, considering the fact that you keep showing up on my doorstep, it’d be kinda hard,’ Emily said with a grin. _Not to mention the surprise baby shower I’m pretending to know nothing about._

‘You _love_ our movie nights,’ Garcia chided.

‘I do,’ Emily agreed. ‘But next time you invite Reid, bring a gag.’

‘Oh, you kinky minx – Derek, is she this naughty in the bedroom?’

Morgan winked, which on the list of possible responses, wasn’t completely horrible. ‘That’s for me to know and you _not_ to find out, baby girl.’

‘Alright,’ Emily interrupted. ‘As fascinating as our sex life is, I really need to get going.’

Garcia gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. ‘Remember to show them how much ass you kick.’

‘I will,’ Emily agreed, as she stared out over the bullpen for the last time as a member of the BAU.

Things were going to be different.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

They “discussed” day right up until the moment the truck pulled up outside Emily’s place. She insisted that she wasn’t in her third trimester yet – she could still lift some of the lighter stuff, but Morgan maintained that she should leave it to the rest of them. Morgan won in the end, mostly because he had full backing from the rest of the team. Emily scowled at him, but accepted the duty of taking care of putting things away on the other end.

‘You can alphabetize your bookshelf while we deal with the furniture,’ Morgan joked, and Emily rolled her eyes. They’d agreed to turn the rumpus room into an office/library area; with the amount of books she owned, and both of their desks, it would fill the room up nicely. She didn’t get to the books right away, instead taking her time in making sure the bedroom was ready for the night, because it definitely wasn’t something that she wanted to deal with later.

Eventually, though, she did make it to the books, and was still sorting through the first box when Morgan came in with the next load.

‘I think I’m going to buy you a Kindle for Christmas,’ Morgan said, after he dropped the seventh box of books into the office, standing to wipe the sweat from his brow.

‘That’s like saying you’ll buy me an iPod to replace my vinyl collection,’ she told him with a glare. ‘Complete sacrilege.’ She did have an iPod, but that was completely beside the point.

‘A lot easier to carry, though,’ he countered, to which Emily gave a shrug.

‘I wanted to help, but the big strong man thought he could do it all on his own…’ she chastised him, fanning herself with the book in her hand.

‘That’s not the point, and you know it.’

‘Everything okay?’ Reid asked, coming in with yet another box.

Emily gave him a look. ‘I’ll bet you have five times as many books as I do Reid, right?’

Reid frowned. ‘Yes – I use the library mostly, but I spend a lot of time at second-hand bookstores, too. Why?’

She gestured towards Morgan. ‘He thinks I should get an e-book reader instead.’

Reid’s frown deepened, as if he didn’t quite understand the concept. ‘Many people say that they prefer hardcopies because it’s a more genuine experience – among other things, the weight and the smell is significantly different.’

Morgan shook his head. ‘Fine. We can keep the book collection.’

‘I’ll make it up to you,’ Emily told him with a wink, and Reid balked slightly, rushing out of the room.

‘I think you scared off the boy genius,’ Morgan grinned.

‘Mmm. Means we have the room all to ourselves.’ Emily stood slowly, ignoring the hand Morgan held out for her. She was well and truly starting to show now, loose shirt hanging over the bump. Morgan let his hand rest there for a moment. ‘How’s my baby boy doing?’

‘Not kicking today, but that’s normal, apparently. Knowing his genes, maybe I should be afraid that he might start tackling my internal organs.’

‘I tackle for a _reason_ , Prentiss,’ he said drily, leaning forward to let their foreheads touch. ‘Unless there’s an unsub in your stomach for some inexplicable reason, I don’t think you have anything to worry about.’

‘You know, those serial killers, they show up in the worst of places.’ They kissed slowly, his hand moving up the back of her shirt, and she was seriously considering just sending the rest of the team home so they could have some alone time, but there was still a ridiculous amount of stuff to move.

‘I’m going to move to the kitchen,’ she breathed into his neck. ‘I think having forks for dinner tonight is more important that my books being alphabetized.’

‘Am I swaying you from your nerd ways?’ he asked, his expression one of mock horror.

‘Never. Food is just very important right now. Now go on. Go help move stuff. You still have my entire DVD collection to bring in. I doubt Rossi can handle it on his own.’ He gave her a grin, and then jogged back out to the trailer.

With a happy sigh, Emily relocated to the kitchen, finding half a dozen labeled boxes there already. This was just the stuff from _her_ place. If nothing else, they were going to end up with an overabundance of cutlery.

She was vaguely aware of the sounds of people coming in and out of the house, only really paying attention to it when Morgan wrapped his arms around her from behind.

‘Hey,’ he murmured. ‘We’re going back to your place for another load. You’ll be fine here?’

She gave him a look. ‘I did survive without you for thirty-seven years, Morgan. I think I can last a couple of hours.’

‘Only if you’re sure,’ he teased, catching her lips in a kiss, and giving her a wave goodbye. He had the key to her condo, and the security people had been informed of what was going on, but still – getting all her furniture down from the eighth floor to the trailer was a feat that she would need to be thanking him for later. And, she figured, she’d probably have to thank the rest of the team as well, but not in the same way that she’d be thanking Morgan.

The plan was for pizza at seven, providing everything had been moved by then. Jessica came by with Jack at four, while Hotch was still back at Morgan’s place.

‘Can I get you a drink?’ Emily asked the other woman, frowning as she realized that there probably wasn’t much _to_ drink. The water was turned on, and there was a bottle of lemonade somewhere, but Emily was still kind of grateful when Jessica declined.

‘I really need to get moving. Tell Aaron that I’ll be back in town on Thursday.’ She knelt down beside Jack. ‘Bye sweetie. You be good for Miss Prentiss until Daddy gets back, okay?’

‘Okay,’ Jack mumbled, eyes cast towards the ground.

‘Are you hungry, buddy?’ Emily asked Jack, the boy not looking up. ‘I’ve got some crackers here, if you wanted some.’

‘Yes please,’ he whispered softly, and Emily found the box of crackers that had been almost demolished by her intermittent hunger streaks throughout the day. There was another box somewhere, which she found and opened, tossing the old box into the pile of newspaper that would go into recycling.

She found a plastic Tupperware container, and put a few crackers into it. ‘We’ve got a while before your Daddy gets back – did you want to help me put some books away downstairs?’

‘Okay,’ Jack said, his voice hesitant. Emily hadn’t spent that much time with the boy, but she did know that it usually took a while for him to warm up to people. Unsurprising, considering the horrors that he had already been through at such a young age. The last stranger he’d met had murdered his mother in cold blood.

She figured that putting away the books would be a better task than putting away glassware for his five-year-old hands, even if it was much more distracting. Over the next half hour, they put away less than a dozen books, and it didn’t surprise Emily in the least.

‘Has your daddy read this one to you?’ she asked, holding up _The Hobbit._ While her parents hadn’t had the time to read to her, Emily had learned to put words together fairly quickly on her own; when you were shut away in your room, there wasn’t much else to do aside from getting lost in those fantasy worlds.

Jack shook his head, still silent.

‘It’s called _The Hobbit_ ,’ Emily explained. ‘The Hobbit – his name is Bilbo Baggins – is taken away on an adventure by a wizard named Gandalf, and some Dwarves who want to find the treasure of a fierce dragon.’

Jack looked at her, a little unsure. ‘What’s a hobbit?’ he asked finally. Emily gave a short laugh.

‘A hobbit is like a dwarf, but they don’t usually have beards, and they’re usually a lot more carefree. They don’t really like adventuring that much; they prefer to stay at home in their hobbit-holes and smoke pipe-weed.’ Thankfully, he didn’t ask what “pipe-weed” was. She didn’t want to justify that one to Hotch.

He was still somewhat hesitant, until she set herself down on the armchair, and gestured that he should sit in her lap. It was a little awkward, with her stomach sticking out like a sore thumb, but Jack seemed comfortable.

‘In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit,’ she started. She’d never really read _to_ anyone before, save for work related things (translations, mostly). Fiction required a completely different voice. ‘Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, not yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.’

Apparently, playing with his cousins had worn the boy out, because he barely lasted halfway into the chapter before falling asleep against Emily’s shoulder. It would have been endearing, if not for the fact that she really, really needed to pee.

Fortunately, rescue came soon, in the form of Morgan and Hotch carrying a sofa into the room. She gave them a helpless wave.

‘Jessica came by,’ she explained, a little unnecessarily. ‘We started to read, but apparently someone’s a little bit tired.

‘He went down without complaint?’ Hotch asked, eyebrows raised. ‘I’m impressed, Prentiss.’

Morgan had a highly amused grin on his face, and Emily wasn’t quite sure whether she should be laughing with him, or hitting him. Thanks to the small pile of five-year-old sitting on her lap, though, that didn’t seem like an option.

Hotch relieved her of the burden quickly, though, setting the still-sleeping child down onto Morgan’s newly relocated sofa. Not the Clooney chew toy sofa, but the nice leather one. She gave him a grateful smile before rushing to the bathroom to relieve her bladder.

Morgan intercepted her on the way back to the office, and looking at him properly, she noticed the sweat on his shirt, and the sheer exhaustion on his face. In that moment, she felt ridiculously lazy for sitting around the house all day, putting away things and reading books to young children.

‘You know what?’ Morgan said, leaning forward to let his head rest atop hers.

‘What?’

‘In three months, when you’re giving birth to our baby, you’re not going to be feeling so useless. You’re doing something incredibly important; taking care of our child.’ Apparently, the guilt had been showing on her face.

He sounded cheesy, but sincere, in that ridiculously Morgan way.

She gave him a soft punch to the shoulder. ‘You know, I was trying so hard to forget that I have to actually _push_ this boy out. You’re right. The next three months, you are going to be doing _all_ the work, and I will not feel a single bit of guilt.’ It was hyperbolic, but it alleviated the tension somewhat, and it did have that small bit of truth to it, even if she was too stubborn to want to accept it.

He grinned. ‘We only have a little bit left, so I’ll probably stop by the store on the way back from our next trip. Is there anything you need?’

‘Ice-cream,’ she said automatically, pausing to think of any actual substantial foodstuffs that might be needed. ‘Do you have bread? I ran out yesterday.’

‘Whole grain, I think. Did you want me to pick up some white?’

‘No, whole grain is fine.’ She wrinkled her brow in thought. They’d been so busy cataloguing furniture, that there was still the matter of all those other things that they needed to survive. ‘We can do a proper grocery shop this weekend.’ They’d both managed to get a few days off of work to get the house sorted; the workaholic nature of the past few years meant that there was more than enough time saved up for it.

What was left at Morgan’s place would all fit in the one load, so it was just Hotch, Morgan and Rossi that left on the final run, leaving Reid, JJ and Garcia behind, as well as Jack who was just now sitting up, and rubbing his eyes blearily. The living room was still filled with boxes, but their excess of furniture meant that nobody was left standing. Morgan’s fridge was now plugged in and filled with their joint foodstuffs, which meant that drinks were in order.

Jack had engaged Reid in a complicated game involving toy dinosaurs, the historical and scientific inaccuracies of which seemed to be sending the genius into a thither.

‘So, this is it, huh?’ JJ said, as she and Garcia accompanied Emily into the kitchen.

‘This is what?’

‘You’ve just moved in with Derek Morgan, sweetness.’ Garcia patted Emily on the shoulder. ‘Tell me that doesn’t terrify you even a little.’

‘What terrifies me is the fact that it _doesn’t_ terrify me,’ Emily admitted. ‘Sure, he leaves his socks all over the place, and he’s probably the most stubborn pain in the ass that I know, but he’s also the sweetest guy I’ve ever dated.’

JJ smiled. ‘You should hear your voice when you talk about him,’ she said. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk like this before.’

Emily’s voice settled into a frown. ‘Talk like what?’

‘Like you’re in love.’

‘Who’da thunk it?’

‘Well…’ Garcia started, guilt lacing her voice. ‘I refuse to admit to anything, but there may or may not have been speculation about a possible romantic entanglement when you first joined the BAU.’

Emily raised an eyebrow. ‘Seriously?’

‘You have to remember,’ JJ said, smiling, ‘That at that point, Derek Morgan was this macho guy that didn’t really give up anything about his past. The most we knew was that he was a guy that went out partying every Friday night. So when the new girl comes along, and he starts talking to her about _books_ , you know there’s a little something stirring below the surface.’

‘Of course, when we started the clandestine betting ring, no-one knew it was going to take four and a half years for you to hook up,’ Garcia added. ‘The closest guess was three months, which goes to show that you should never give up hope on anything.’

‘Still holding out for that army of infant minions?’ JJ queried.

‘Henry’s old enough! You can start breeding again!’

The conversation shifted towards JJ’s unwavering refusal to procreate again, just for Garcia’s sake. Emily was kind of grateful, because her mind was busy going over Garcia’s revelation. They’d made a few passing comments about what things would have been like if they’d gotten together sooner.

It probably would have made work a lot more complicated; hiding a relationship with a team member seemed like an almost impossible feat. Whether or not they could have done it, though – that was a moot point. While the past might have had a significant impact on who they were today, dwelling on those events wouldn’t help move their relationship forward.

Today…?

Today was a pretty big step.

It was past nine o’clock by the time the rest of the team left, and Emily found herself yawning, in spite of the fact that her contributions to the day’s activities had been minimal compared to everyone else’s.

‘Bedtime,’ Morgan said with a smile, pulling Emily into a hug, which quickly graduated to a kiss. ‘First night in a new home – _our_ home.’

‘That kinda sounds like an occasion that needs celebrating,’ Emily suggested, and Morgan, being a red-blooded male, did not miss the nature of her words.

‘Babe, yesterday we celebrated _breakfast_.’

‘Well it was a good breakfast.’ She kissed himself slowly. ‘Come on – let’s go upstairs. I have a surprise for you.’

Morgan raised his eyebrows, which were really quite expressive as far as eyebrows went. He didn’t argue when she dragged him upstairs to their new bedroom, which, like the rest of the house, was not devoid of boxes. Anticipating the evening’s events, Emily had packed what she’d need in her go bag, which was sitting by the door to master bathroom.

‘Lay down,’ she instructed. ‘I’ll be out in a bit.’

Emily had never been much of a lingerie person, but that was mostly because she’d never really had anyone to show it off to. Now that she was in a committed relationship – now that she was _living_ with someone, it was definitely something that she could get used to doing.

Even with her swollen stomach, the black lace bra and panty set looked sufficiently sexy – at least, Emily hoped so. She wasn’t an expert on the finer points of what made a woman sexy, but the positive reinforcement that Morgan kept giving was a good learning technique.

‘Alright,’ she said, stepping out of the bathroom. ‘I’m…’

She stopped.

Morgan was fast asleep.

Unsurprising, considering the day that they’d had, but Emily was still mildly annoyed that their night of passion had been waylaid by a little thing like exhaustion. Maybe tomorrow, he’d be a little more regretful of falling asleep when he learnt that she’d had to take business into her own hands.

She kissed his cheek, and slid into the bed beside him.

‘Sweet dreams, Derek.’


	15. Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

The first day, the house was a mess.

Both Emily and Derek had the day off, so that they could even just _begin_ to start sorting through the boxes and furniture and creepy-crawlies that had decided to take up residence in their possessions. For the first few minutes after waking, Morgan had been somewhat sullen, when he realized just what he’d missed out on by falling asleep the previous night.

‘I’ll make it up to you,’ Emily promised; it wasn’t as though excessive sex was a chore, these days. She really did enjoy it. Whether the same could be said after the birth of her child was another matter altogether. The (somewhat pathetic) truth of it was that she’d never really been in a relationship long enough for long periods of daily sex to have become a thing.

At around eleven a.m, the doorbell rang – it was a standard chime, and Emily wondered whether she could persuade Morgan into installing one that played the Imperial March. ‘Can you get that?’ Emily called out, not quite sure where Morgan was, exactly. She would have gotten the door herself, only pregnancy made her pee a _lot_ , and she was pretty sure that whoever was at the door didn’t want to wait for her to finish.

‘Yeah,’ Morgan called back, from somewhere in the kitchen.

Covered in the dirt of their toil, Emily took a few minutes to scrub her hands clean, even though she knew that they would only be getting dirty again.

Upon investigating the identity of their visitor, Emily found Morgan engaged in conversation with a man in his late fifties, who had a leashed Doberman with him, sniffing the doorstep.

A bark from the backyard alerted Emily to the fact that Clooney was very much aware of their latest visitor.

‘Em, this is Frank,’ Morgan said, as she walked up behind him.

‘Hi,’ Emily smiled, and shook Frank’s hand. Despite his age, his body well-formed; he looked like the kind of guy that had spent his entire life working out. ‘Nice to meet you.’

‘You too.’ Frank clicked his fingers, and the Doberman looked up, expectantly. ‘This is Clara. Clara, say hi to Emily.’

Clara lifted up a paw, which Emily shook.

‘Good girl.’ Frank pulled a dog treat from his pocket, which Clara lifted her paw for once more. ‘So Derek was telling me that you’re in the FBI, too?’

Emily nodded. ‘We worked together for about five years,’ she told him. It felt weird, talking about their working relationship in past tense. The fact that she wasn’t with the BAU still hadn’t quite sunk in yet. ‘I’m in Counterintelligence now, which is…different.’

Frank nodded. ‘It’s all good work,’ he said. He nodded towards her stomach. ‘How much longer?’

Emily grimaced. ‘Too long,’ she said.

 

 

‘I’d better leave you to your unpacking then,’ Frank said. ‘Nice to meet you, Emily.’

‘Nice guy,’ Emily commented, as Frank and Clara made their way down the driveway to the house across the street. ‘Ex-cop?’

‘Yeah,’ Morgan confirmed. ‘He helped me with some of the electrical work when I was redoing the walls in the basement. Plus, he said he’d keep an eye on Clooney any time we needed dogsitting.’

‘He’s alright hanging around with other dogs?’

‘As long as he knows them, sure,’ Morgan shrugged. ‘I was going to take him over there when we’ve finished sorting the house out, so he can get to know her.’

‘That’s a good idea,’ Emily agreed. She put her hands on her hips, and stared out over the sea of boxes. ‘Though I’m not sure this is ever going to be finished.’

It took a fraction under a week.

Not bad, considering the fact that they spent their days at work, and their nights unpacking boxes. Furniture was shifted, with the help of Reid, whose scrawny build was surprisingly strong. Sunday found them living in what could have been described as a family home.

It was the slightest bit incredible.

…

‘Baby girl, I need your help,’ Morgan announced. It was a Friday afternoon, and, for reasons that most likely involved Jack’s school play, Hotch had let them all off early for the day. Morgan had a thought in his head, that he hadn’t been able to let go of in the days since he and Emily had moved in together.

‘Does it involve making our respective lovers incredibly jealous?’

Morgan cracked a smile. ‘Not quite,’ he admitted. ‘I need you to help me buy an engagement ring.’

Garcia perked noticeably at the suggestion – if there was one thing more exiting to her than babies, it was marriage.

‘Seriously?’ she squealed. ‘ _Seriously?_ ’

‘Keep your voice down,’ he told her, looking over his shoulder. While Emily didn’t exactly work in the BAU, it wasn’t unheard of her to come up on her lunch break to say hi, or offer insight on a consultation. ‘I don’t want to ask just yet, but…I want to be able to, when I’m ready.’ He paused. ‘It’s insane how much I love that woman, Garcia.’

‘It’s not insane,’ she told him frankly. ‘It’s exactly the right amount of sanity. Now get your bag, Derek Morgan. I never thought I’d be able to say this to you, but we are going _shopping_.’

Morgan had thought that going shopping for a ring would be a simple process.

Three hours later, he realized how absolutely wrong he was.

Each store seemed to want to sell him more extravagant rings; rings with a dozen diamonds so big, he couldn’t even see the band, rings that cost half his yearly salary.

‘At least it’s not the De Beers Platinum,’ Garcia said, after they left the third jewelry store. ‘A ginormous 9 carat diamond ring – costs no less than one point eight three million buckaroos.’

‘On a _ring_?’ Morgan asked, dumbfounded.

‘Yup. Size does matter, according to the diamond industry. But…’ She gave him  a look. ‘Dollars to donuts, Emily Prentiss doesn’t really care about diamond rings.’

‘I know,’ he said. ‘It’s just…It kind of makes me feel good to think about her wearing one. Not one of those oversized, overpriced things. Something nice and simple that has some kind of meaning to it, y’know?’

In the fourth store, he found it.

A single diamond inset between a pair of what he presumed to be Celtic knots. Simple and elegant, yet beautiful – a perfect fit.

‘What do you think?’ he asked Garcia, pointing it out.

‘Oh man,’ Garcia said, shaking her head. ‘Emily Prentiss is one lucky woman.’

…

‘Do you like cookies?’ Emily asked him, standing at the pantry door, examining its contents. She was wearing his navy Chicago Bears jersey, looking a damn sight better than he ever had in the thing. She’d pilfered it from his closet after discovering that her own pajamas were too tight to button up over her baby bump. Morgan hadn’t actually worn the jersey in years; not since the last time he’d actually been to a game.

It was a Sunday night, the end of a long, lazy weekend. They’d talked about painting the nursery, but hadn’t quite gotten around to it, the thought punctuated by a long love-making session on the carpeted floor of the room.

‘I’m pretty sure it’s impossible to hate cookies,’ he told her matter-of-factly. Emily shrugged, starting to pull out containers. Living together, there was more than twice food that there had been for either of them living alone. Maybe that was just a side effect of cohabitation, or maybe it was something to do with the pregnancy. Probably both.

He was lying on the sofa, waiting for the game to start. Clooney had been at his feet, but the dog had wandered into the kitchen the moment Emily had, perhaps hoping to trick her into giving him a treat.

‘Do you like cookie _dough?_ ’ she amended, twenty minutes later. ‘I honestly don’t feel like cooking these.’

‘Plus, you’d probably burn them,’ he added, thinking of her other ventures into baking.

‘That was _one_ time,’ she said, rolling her eyes, and sliding against him on the sofa, bowl in one hand. ‘I got distracted.’ She offered him the spatula. ‘Dough?’

‘Choc chip?’ Morgan asked, letting the taste sit in his mouth for a moment before swallowing.

‘Peanut-butter choc chip,’ Emily corrected, returning the spatula to the bowl. Clooney gave a whine, a paw brushing at Emily’s leg. ‘Are you a good boy?’

‘No chocolate for Clooney,’ he reminded her.

‘Yeah, I know.’ She rolled up a ball of dough, making sure that it was free from chocolate chips. The dog swallowed, and then looked up again expectantly.

‘Lie down,’ Morgan commanded, and Clooney gave him a doleful look.

‘It’s amazing how effective those puppy dog eyes can be,’ Emily commented, but didn’t submit to the dog’s pleas.

‘I’m pretty sure that’s why they’re _called_ puppy dog eyes.’

Between them, they managed to devour almost half the dough, but not even Emily’s pregnancy appetite could handle the overabundance of sugar, so the bowl was relocated out of canine reach. The game was on mute, because he wasn’t so much interested in the outcome as he was interested in the woman with whom he had fallen in complete and utter love with.

Whether that had taken four years, or four months, he wasn’t quite sure, but he did know that he was happier than he had been in a long time, and it was all because of her.

‘Will you marry me?’ He hadn’t planned on asking it like this, but it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Less natural, was the way that she tensed up in his arms. Not the most enthusiastic response.

There was a long, awkward silence.

‘Never mind, then, I guess,’ he said, unable to hide the disappointment from his voice.

Emily struggled to roll over and face him, but the sofa wasn’t all that big, and her stomach wasn’t particularly conducive to dexterity. She sat up instead, and her eyes looked almost sad. ‘Derek, I…This is all going so fast. I mean, eight months ago, we were in a different place altogether, and I mean…I love this – I love _you_ – but…I don’t know if I’m ready to get married.’

He let her words sink in. Not the worst response, but he’d be lying if he said that part of him hadn’t wanted her to break into a wide smile and declare her undying love for him.

‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured, finding his hand and gripping it tightly.

‘That’s okay,’ he smiled, trying not to let the disappointment sound in his voice. He was pretty sure he couldn’t fool her, though.

‘It’s not okay.’ She shook her head, eyes starting to swim with tears. ‘I know I’m not helping at all by reacting like this.’

Morgan put on a brave face. ‘How about we make some dinner and forget I ever said anything?’ He was fairly sure that that probably wouldn’t happen. It made him wonder if the entire relationship was just because of the pregnancy. Was there really anything between them?

He wasn’t used to being plagued by such self-doubt.

Not since Emily Prentiss had worked her way into his life.

...

The next day at work, Morgan did his best to avoid Garcia. He hadn’t given her any specifics on exactly when he’d been planning on proposing, but he knew that she’d take one look at him and immediately figure that something had gone down.

He wasn’t wrong, but not for the reasons that he had imagined.

Garcia perched herself on the edge of his desk, a look of pure sympathy plastered on her face. ‘I spoke to Emily last night,’ she explained.

‘Well that makes one of us,’ he said, knowing exactly how bitter he sounded. It wasn’t that either of them had been angry about the situation – upset, maybe, but not angry. Things had just been...awkward. He’d heard horror tales about declined proposals, and yet he never thought it would be him on that end of things.

‘She’s a little confused,’ Garcia told him. ‘But she loves you, Derek – don’t doubt that.’

The words gave him little comfort. Emily had told him that she loved him, and yet she still turned him down. He wasn’t exactly brimming with self-confidence.

‘Give her time,’ Garcia said, putting a hand on his shoulder. ‘If it’s meant to be, then things will work out.’

‘What if it’s not?’ he asked.

Garcia didn’t have an answer for that question.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen

Morgan woke as a loud ringing noise cut through the silence. Beside him, Emily gave a groan. It was a little past four a.m according to the luminescent clock at his bedside.

‘Tell JJ that you quit,’ she murmured, her face pressed against his bare chest. ‘Tell her you can’t come in, because you don’t want to work for the BAU anymore. Then we can have pancakes.’

Any outsider that listened to her words – and he sincerely hoped that there were none – wouldn’t have been able to tell that only a few days ago, she had turned down his marriage proposal. Since then, things had been a little awkward, but not _awkward_.

‘You know,’ he said, reaching over to the nightstand to grab the phone. ‘Four months ago, you were adamant that I should never leave.’

She rolled her eyes at that. The Strauss debacle was water under the bridge, even if it was still fresh in their minds.

‘If I cripple you, they’ll have to give you sick leave.’

‘But then I won’t be able to make pancakes,’ he countered.

‘You don’t need legs to cook,’ she said softly, as Morgan answered the phone. He gave her a grin.

‘JJ?’

‘ _Got a case – four dead, escalating quickly._ ’ The grin faded. No case merited a good mood.

‘I’ll be there soon,’ he promised her, shooting Emily an apologetic look. On some levels, this was how Hotch must have felt once upon a time, or how JJ still did feel, every time she kissed Will and Henry goodbye. It was different though, because Emily knew the job, and in a way, that made it even harder.

He showered and dressed quickly, and by the time he stepped back into the bedroom to kiss Emily goodbye, she was already asleep again. He let his lips touch her forehead softly, and he whispered, ‘I’ll call you tonight,’ even though he knew she couldn’t hear him.

It really was ridiculously early, and even though they hadn’t gone to bed particularly late last night, he was still a little rough around the edges, so he made good use of the coffee machine in the kitchen. _Their_ coffee machine. _Their_ kitchen.

It was a thought that was definitely going to take some getting used to. Maybe he wasn’t as ready to get married as he thought.

He hadn’t lived with another woman since he’d moved out of home; the constant demands of whatever job he’d been working at the time had limited him to one-night stands, and relationships that didn’t last longer than a month. Once upon a time, there had almost been a woman he could have seen himself spending the rest of his life with, but then, the job had gotten in the way once more.

That was part of the problem.

No.

That was the _whole_ problem.

The only people that could really understand the job were the ones who _had_ the job. That was why the relationship was working. He wondered if they lived some other life, if he’d never joined the FBI, or if Emily had followed her parents’ footsteps into politics would they still have had a chance.

He wasn’t exactly sure of the answer. Plus, it was a little too philosophical for four a.m. He’d need at least two more cups of coffee before he was capable of that level of cognitive functioning.

At that time of morning, the roads weren’t quite deserted, but he still made it to Quantico in good time, refilling his coffee mug again before meeting the rest of the team in the briefing room. The only one _without_ coffee was Hotch; Emily had speculated once upon a time that the Unit Chief was, in fact, a vampire, who didn’t even _need_ to sleep. Some days, Morgan was convinced she was right, even if he didn’t burst into flames whenever he stepped outside during the daytime.

‘Emily was okay with you being dragged out of bed at four in the morning?’ JJ asked, with a raised eyebrow. The team enquired constantly about her wellbeing; the absence was still fresh, and sometimes, for Morgan especially, it felt like there was a gaping hole. A spot that he didn’t even know needed to be filled until she came along and filled it. He wasn’t just talking about the job anymore.

‘She threatened to cripple me so I wouldn’t have to come in,’ he grinned. JJ and Rossi both let out a chuckle, and Reid gave an appreciative smile, but Hotch’s face remained stoic. His experiences with spousal reaction to the job were a lot less facetious.

‘What do we have, JJ?’ Hotch asked, eyes focused on the file in front of him.

Morgan tried to compartmentalize his personal issues, but it was harder than he would have thought. His relationship with Emily was so pervasive, that he wasn’t sure he could. Eventually, though, his mind shifted to the profile, and to the four dead victims so far, and Emily Prentiss was the last thing on his mind.

…

The day was long, exhausting, and above all, fruitless. Usually, on the first day, they found some kind of link between their victims, or, at the very least, some kind of reason for why their unsub was targeting them. Today, though, all they had was four victims of different genders, different social class and different age groups.

It was nine o’clock when Hotch sent them back to their motel rooms – thanks to their early start, they’d been working non-stop for almost seventeen hours, and had found few worthwhile leads. Morgan didn’t even bother pulling back the sheets before flopping down onto the hard bed. The place was so old that it still had Magic Fingers, and he was half tempted to dig through his wallet for a quarter.

Instead, he found his phone, and speed-dialed Emily. She picked up almost immediately, which made him wonder if she’d been waiting for his call.

‘ _Hey_.’

‘Hey. What are you doing?’

‘ _Something I haven’t done in a_ long _time_.’

‘Yeah?’ In spite of himself, he grinned – there were a _lot_ of different ways of interpreting that sentence.

‘ _Mind out of the gutter, Morgan. I’m reading. More specifically, I am lying in bed reading. I seriously can’t remember the last time I did that._ _So how’s the case going?_ ’

‘Mmmm. You keep talking - I just want to hear the sound of your voice.’

‘ _That bad?_ ’

‘Worse. No links between the victims, nothing from the scene to tie back to the unsub.’

‘ _You think it’s random?_ ’

‘It’s starting to look like it.’

‘ _What does the geographic profile say?_ ’

‘Uh…’ He searched through his memory banks for the relevant data. ‘First body found in the park, second outside a school, third on a popular jogging path, and the last one in a dumpster a couple of blocks from the police station.’

‘ _Sounds like he wants to be seen_.’

‘Yeah, that’s what we figured. Limited defensive wounds, but the knifework was pretty sloppy.’

‘ _So inexperienced and disorganized._ ’

‘Yeah, which makes it all the more annoying that we haven’t found anything.’

 ‘ _Come on, Derek. It’s the first day. Just because you haven’t found anything yet doesn’t mean jack. You need to stop doubting yourself, Derek_.’

‘And why do you think I’m doubting myself?’ he shot back, with far more anger in his voice than he had intended. He shook his head, even though he knew she couldn’t see it. ‘I’m sorry. I know you need time, and space…’

‘ _Don’t worry about that right now. So the lack of defensive wounds could mean that he knows them, or that he’s strong enough to take them out without too much effort…_ ’

They went over the evidence and the profile for another hour, by which point, Morgan was grateful for Verizon's unlimited calling plans.

‘ _You need to relax,_ ’ Emily said. ‘ _You get too hung up over the details, sometimes Derek_.’

 _And you don’t?_ he wanted to ask, but didn’t, because he knew she was right.

‘What did you have in mind?’

‘ _What are you wearing_?’

Morgan raised an eyebrow. ‘Jeans, t-shirt, shoes.’

‘ _Take them off._ ’

‘You’re dirty, you know that?’

‘ _Derek, how do you think I deal with this overactive libido while you’re away?_ ’

‘Well now that’s just hot,’ he grinned, the mental image provided some needed stimulation to his groin area. The jeans were starting to get a little too tight, so he kicked off his shoes before shrugging them off and slipping his shirt over his head.

The night was not a complete failure.

…

Thirty-six hours later found Derek Morgan and Spencer Reid at the apartment of a man who had known two of their victims. Eric Rutherford was twenty-seven years old, his only arrest being for possession, almost six years prior.

Morgan wasn’t exactly expecting him to run. Especially not in that way. If he was going to run, it would have been _before_ he opened the door to let them in, not after. Instead, he swung the door open, took one look at Morgan and Reid, and then ran for the fire escape. If given the chance to think about it, Morgan might have realized that it was a trap, but his brain went straight into tactical mode, and he took chase.

The guy was fast, and he knew the area, but this was not Morgan’s first day on the job. He knew how to use the environment to his advantage, and, while he didn’t know the streets of Baltimore particularly well, he knew human behaviour, and sometimes that was enough.

All that taken into account, having a gun pointed at his chest was the last thing he expected when rounding the corner into the alleyway. His own weapon was gripped tightly in his right hand, but before he could so much as lift it to get a shot off, the unsub squeezed the trigger.

Morgan had been shot before, but nothing could have prepared him for the experience again. The bullet tore through his shoulder, as though it were made of fire, instead of just an inch or so of metal. He tried to aim his weapon, but the gun fell from the grip of his numbed fingers.

As darkness pressed at the edge of his vision, he was vaguely aware of voices, and of a second set of gunshots. _Reid?_

‘Morgan, are you okay?’

Morgan blinked. He wasn’t exactly sure what the answer to that question was, but of the blood that had soaked through his shirt was anything to go by, the answer was no.

‘Yeah, man, I’m good,’ he said, before letting his eyes fall closed.

Emily was going to be _pissed_.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Emily was at her desk – it still didn’t really feel like _her_ desk, even though she’d been using it for well over a month – when she got the phone call. It was JJ, her voice just the slightest bit warbly, and before she even said anything beyond, ‘ _Em, it’s JJ_ ,’ Emily knew that something has gone very, very wrong.

‘What happened?’

She was on her feet, grabbing for her bag before the situation had even been explained. ‘ _Morgan’s_ _in hospital_.’

‘JJ…’ she said warningly, and the media liaison explained in a little more detail – Morgan had been shot by their unsub. Shot, and beaten up. She wasn’t quite sure what words were coming out of her mouth – her heart was racing, and everything was kind of blurred together, but apparently she’d asked for a location, because JJ told her which hospital. Her mind was blank for a second, and then she remembered that the team had been in Baltimore.

 _Keys, keys, where are her keys?_ She tore through her bag, looking for those elusive keys.

‘Prentiss, what’s wrong?’ Emily looked up to see Ramirez, and wondered just what had given her away. She lifted a hand to her face and realizes that tears were streaming from her eyes. Shit.

‘M-…’ Her throat was dry, and she couldn’t quite get the words out. She licked her lips and tried again. ‘Derek’s been shot.’

Ramirez’s eyes sharpened. ‘Where?’

‘Baltimore,’ she choked out. ‘Johns-Hopkins.’

Her SAIC nodded. ‘I’ll drive.’ Emily’s mouth opened to argue, but Ramirez was adamant. ‘You’re not driving in that condition, Prentiss.’ It took her several seconds to realize that he wasn’t talking about the pregnancy, he was talking about the fact that she was standing in the middle of the bullpen, crying her eyes out.

She nodded. ‘Okay, but…’

‘Speed demon,’ Ramirez agreed. ‘We’ll be there before you know it.’

She wasn’t quite sure how she even made it to the car without having a complete and total breakdown, so she was grateful that Ramirez had appeared when he did. He didn’t try to make small talk, and she wasn’t entirely displeased when he flipped the sirens on. Almost the whole way there, her hand sat atop her stomach, as if for some insane, illogical reason a kick from her child would mean that somehow, Derek was going to be okay.

It was late afternoon when they got there, and Emily was rushing through the halls of the hospital, trying to find the right place. Ramirez talked to a nurse, because Emily still wasn’t quite capable of stringing a sentence together, and she wondered whether that was because of the hormones, or it was because she was completely and utterly in love with Derek Morgan.

And maybe she’d known that all along.  Or at least, long enough.

The team was in the waiting room, and the air was tense, and it felt just like every other time they’d been in a hospital waiting room, only unimaginably worse, because this time it was Derek Morgan, and this time, she _hadn’t been there_.

JJ stood up and wrapped her in a bear hug, which took a few seconds to process. ‘Garcia’s on her way, too,’ JJ said, in lieu of anything else. She frowned then, and looks at her watch. ‘How did you get here so quickly?’

‘Ramirez,’ Emily breathed. The other agent had gone to get himself a cup of coffee, point blank refusing to leave Emily alone in the hospital, even if the rest of her team – her _old_ team – were there. She didn’t sit down – she couldn’t sit down – even though her back was aching, and she felt like she needs to throw up. ‘How is he?’ she asked, trying to look into their eyes for any answer.

‘Still in surgery,’ Hotch answered – she couldn’t quite read his expression. He had that stoic mask on. ‘It was through and through to his shoulder, but he lost a bit of blood.’

Emily nodded. It was good news. Not as good as it could have been, but it could have been much, much worse. It could have been a bullet in the chest, or a bullet in the thigh, or a “could you please identify this body for us,” but it wasn’t.

They waited.

At some point Emily found herself questioning the fate of the unsub, to which Hotch answered, ‘He’s dead.’ Emily nodded, and then remembered that she should probably call Frank to see if he could feed Clooney.

At some point after that, Garcia arrived, and there were hugs, and words, but Emily couldn’t quite process the details. Her mind was focused on the hope that Derek was going to get out of this one alive. It would be some kind of cruel irony if he were to die now, after so many years of walking that perilous edge.

It was another hour and a half later when someone came out to see them; there was a half-smile on the Doctor’s face, and Emily found herself sinking in relief. Any words beyond, ‘He’s going to be fine,’ went in one ear and out the other. Her breathing slowed down, as well as her heart-rate, and she realized that the past couple of hours had been the most terrifying of her entire life. More terrifying than any of the near death experiences, more terrifying than any unsub she’d ever faced.

‘Did someone call his mother?’ Emily asked suddenly, as they were led down the hallway to the room Derek was being moved to. She cursed herself for not thinking of it before.

Hotch nodded. ‘She said she’d be on the next available flight.’ Which meant she should get in sometime that night. Emily started to mentally prepare for the arrival. She wasn’t quite sure how well she’d be able to handle Fran Morgan when she could barely handle herself.

That “handling herself” business got that slightest bit harder when she stepped into the room and saw him lying there, IV in his wrist, hooked up to a heart monitor, all those other things. It was something that was not supposed to happen to Derek Morgan. He tackled unsubs and cuffed them and shoved them into the back of police cars. He didn’t get shot or stabbed or restricted to a hospital bed. It wasn’t supposed to work like that.

Time seemed to slow down as she waited by his side – she wasn’t leaving for any reason. Not to sleep, not for food, not even because visiting hours were over. No-one came to kick her out, though, for which she was grateful, because she was absolutely not in the mood to argue about it. She was vaguely kind of half aware of other members of the team hanging at the edges of her periphery. At one point JJ asked her if she needed anything, and Emily manages to convey her need for the worn Chicago PD t-shirt that must have been in his go-bag, because she hadn’t found it in the hamper, and it must have gotten mixed up with his hurried laundry load. Not particularly caring about modesty, she unbuttoned her shirt and pulled it off – the tee was big enough that it would fit over her clothes, but she needed to feel the fabric against her skin.

The team had been in Baltimore for two days now, and Morgan was prone to tossing his dirty clothes right back in with the clean ones, so the tee smelt like him too. She leant  her head into her shoulder and took a breath, letting the scent permeate her nostrils. Sweaty, manly, _eau de Morgan_. It was damn near the best smell in the universe, excepting only the smell of bacon, eggs and pancakes, but he’d probably forgive her for that, because he knew making her breakfast got him morning sex. She refused to admit that that was only because the hormones had made her sex drive insatiable. __

They’d been living like this for barely three months, and yet Emily didn’t think she could imagine life without him. On some levels, she felt kind of pathetic for feeling so, but screw that, she was pregnant – she was allowed to feel overemotional.

Sleep came, but it was fitful, and the nightmares were twisted – unsurprising, considering the day’s events. She dreamed of mutilated corpses, her child screaming as it was torn from the womb. The world burned around her, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. Unfortunately, it was standard fare, as far as nightmares were concerned, which meant she’d learned to come out of them smoothly, without drawing too much attention to herself.

The first thing she noticed was that Derek was awake and engaged in conversation with his mother. ‘…nothing serious, mama,’ she heard him say. ‘It hurts more when I cut myself shaving.’

‘That’s because you’re jacked up on morphine.’ Emily pulled herself up, blinking the sleep from her eyes. Her whole body ached, but right now, that wasn’t important. ‘I should kick your ass myself for scaring me like that.’

‘Sorry, princess,’ he grinned, but there was a sadness behind the grin.

The tears were hot on her cheeks. ‘You try pulling this stunt again, and I’ll divorce you.’ She let her words hang in the air, and even though he was on the morphine drip, it only took a couple of seconds for him to comprehend her words.

‘You mean it?’ he asked, his eyes wide. ‘You’ll marry me?’

‘Who else is going to make sure you don’t hurt yourself trying to tackle a submarine?’ She leaned in to kiss him, and with her stomach and his being stuck in a bed, it’s a little awkward.

The moment she moved backwards, she was pulled into a rather tight hug by Fran, who seemed to think that news of her son’s impending wedding overshadowed the fact that he’d just been shot. Not in a malicious sense, of course (he was looking remarkably well, after all), but Emily knew for a fact that Fran had been dropping hints for Morgan to ask since the day he’d told her about the pregnancy.

She felt the few short, sharp kicks at her stomach and gave a grin. ‘I think somebody else is pretty excited by the news.’ Derek seemed confused until she took his hand and laid it against the peak of her baby bump.

‘Look at that,’ he said softly. ‘Baby’s excited for his mommy and daddy.’

Fran’s head jerked up at the sentence. ‘He?’

Morgan nodded. ‘We’re having a boy.’

Fran choked out a sob. ‘Between the two of you, I’m going to run out of tears before the year is through.’

Neither of them mentioned the name that had picked, which was probably a good thing, because Emily was sure that it would have prompted a near breakdown from Derek’s mother.

‘We’ll try to cut down,’ Emily promised, but she doubted she’d be able to keep that promise. It was going to be a pretty emotional few months. Hopefully, it would all be happy, baby-focused emotion, but part of her had the sinking feeling that something horrible – something _else_ horrible – was going to happen. Their lives weren’t exactly easy.

As it stood, though, Derek would need to take at least two months off work – two months before the wound had fully healed. By the time he went back, she’d be nearing full term. It was a little disconcerting. Kind of put things into perspective – in a little under three months, they were going to be parents. Not just that – in a little under three months, they were going to be a _family_.

It was nothing short of terrifying.

The doctor came by for the second time – apparently she’d been sleeping pretty heavily in spite of the restlessness. Emily was tired enough that comprehending his words was a little too much for her brain, and when she checked her watch, she was surprised to see that it was almost 1am.

‘You should get some rest,’ the doctor told her. ‘Sleeping in that chair isn’t very good for the baby, and I can assure you that Agent Morgan is in very good hands.’

She was about to argue that she didn’t actually have anywhere to stay, but Fran revealed that she’d arranged for JJ to book a double room at the hotel in which the team were staying. Her body groaned as she stood, giving Derek a long, slow kiss, as though she was never going to see him again. Today, that had almost become a reality.

It still might, she realized, the thought making her stomach rise in her throat – Derek Morgan was nothing if not an adrenaline addict. He’d been getting in the heat of things as long as she’s known him. One day that fire might become just a little bit too hot.

Becoming a mother was terrifying enough. Becoming a single mother was a kind of stress she wasn’t sure she was cut out to handle. Her own childhood was a testament to the perils of parental neglect. Maybe neglect was too strong a word, but still, the fact remained that she didn’t want her own child to go through that.

Apparently, a fair few things had occurred while she’d been asleep, because not only had someone taken the time to retrieve her go-bag (which she still kept packed, out of habit more than anything else) but they’d procured dinner as well. Starved as she was, she wolfs down her meal a little too quickly. When all this was over, she was going to find some way to get the team a freaking medal. Ramirez, too. Her SAIC, she learned, had driven back to D.C., leaving the order for Emily to take the rest of the week.

She wondered how she lucked into having such fantastic people in her life.

Even though she’d slept a fair bit in the hospital, Emily went to bed as soon as she was able; it was nearing 2am, and she wanted to make it back to the hospital before they decided to check Morgan out. This time, the slumber was a little less restless, and when she woke up, she felt a lot less horrible. She couldn’t really believe that it’d taken her so long to learn the merits of regular sleep.

The moment she woke up, she was almost content to skip a shower and breakfast and go straight to the hospital, but a quick whiff of her underarms and the reminder that it wasn’t just her own health that she needed to worry about threw out that option. The shower she took was hurried, and breakfast was taken care of by a visit to the McDonalds drive-thru. JJ, who was at the wheel, didn’t argue – she more than anyone was aware of the inexplicable urges for bacon and egg McMuffins. If Fran had any worries about the health of her grandson, she didn’t say anything.

By the time they reached the hospital, it was almost ten a.m. The rest of the team were there, but when Emily entered, they made their excuses to filter out – excuses that she didn’t buy for a second. Morgan was sitting up, his arm in a dark blue sling, and a smug grin on his face.

‘I just _know_ you have some nefarious plan up your sleeve. Or up your sling, rather.’ She kissed his cheek before sitting in the chair that had been her bed for a good portion of yesterday. Now that she was well-rested, it felt much, much more comfortable.

‘Absolutely. I couldn’t have them all ruining the moment.’ With his good arm, he pulled out a small velvet-covered box from underneath the sheet where he’d been hiding it. ‘I kind of ruined this the first time round, but I wanted to do it properly, so here goes.’

‘You already know my answer,’ Emily told him.

His grin widened. ‘That doesn’t matter. Now just play along, will you? Emily…I never planned for this, but I would be a liar and a fool if I said that these past few months weren’t some of the best things that have ever happened to me. I want the rest of my life to be with you, and with our child. Will you marry me?’

She thumped his good arm, grinning wildly. ‘You dork. Yes. Of course.’

Emily held a breath as he took her left hand and slipped the ring on. The diamond was small, complemented by what looked like a pair of Celtic knots.

‘They’re Trinity knots,’ Morgan explained, following her eyes. ‘Said to symbolize spiritual growth, eternal life and never-ending love. I also thought it looked kind of Elvish, and what with your inexplicable crush on Hugo Weaving…’

‘The books were better than the movies, and you know it,’ she told him matter-of-factly, not quite able to take her eyes off the ring. It hammered the truth home pretty freaking well – she was _engaged_. That notion of a happy family that she’d long since dismissed as fairy tale was drawing closer and closer to becoming a reality. Of course, the fairy tale didn’t have her visiting her wounded fiancé in hospital because he’d gotten shot by a serial killer.

‘We might have to postpone that Hawaii honeymoon,’ she blurted out, and Morgan raised an eyebrow. ‘Well,’ she shrugged. ‘I can’t exactly rock the bikini look right now, and I’m pretty sure the doctor’ll have something to say about you hanging ten while your arm is still healing.’ She didn’t mention that they would probably have to postpone the honeymoon for at least eighteen years, because bringing up a child was no easy task. It took time, attention. Patience.

The team and Derek’s mother rejoined them, and Garcia had a knowing smile on her face, as though she’d been privy to Morgan’s conspiracies from the start, which probably wasn’t too far from the truth. There was much hugging, and the technical analyst grabbed for her left hand, and made “oohing and ahhing” sounds at the ring. Of course, the surprise was completely ruined by the next statement, ‘See, I told you she didn’t want a giant, flashy diamond. If it were me, of course…’

‘I’ll make sure to tell Kevin,’ Emily said wryly, attempting to regain possession of her arm.

‘So when’s the big day?’ was the next question, again, from Garcia, to which Emily gave a shrug.

‘We haven’t exactly had a chance to talk about it.’ She let her eyes dart about the room before falling back onto Morgan. ‘Things have been a little busy.’

It would probably be something small, she already knew – it was the same problem that came with planning extravagant honeymoons in Hawaii. No time before the birth, and even less time afterwards. Right now, she didn’t care if it was in some dinky office while she wore her maternity stretch pants and Morgan’s arm was still in a sling, and all they had was a couple of witnesses. Right now, all that mattered was family.

It was a very eclectic family, though; with the team’s influence, their son was going to grow up with some pretty strange role models. Without supervision, Reid would have him reciting the periodic table by his fifth birthday, and Garcia would be responsible for teaching him to hack Government databases by ten. That was just the beginning.

She stayed by Morgan’s side until noon, when the doctor came to discharge him. There were a couple of prescriptions to be filled on the way out, and Emily took great pleasure in pushing his wheelchair.

‘Who’s pushing who around now?’ she asked, and he couldn’t quite pull off the sullen look, his pout breaking into a grin.

‘In about three months, the tables’ll be turned again,’ he assured her.

‘Yeah,’ she agreed. ‘Only I’ll be too busy screaming to give a crap about who’s pushing me around.’ She paled slightly at the thought. Labor didn’t sound like a pleasant experience in any way, shape or form. Luckily, it was the aftermath that she had her mind focused on.

So close, and yet so far away.

There was some creative car shuffling between the two SUVs and Garcia’s Cadillac convertible, Esther; Hotch and Rossi took one SUV, while JJ drove Morgan, Emily and Fran in the other. Reid elected to accompany Garcia – more out of a desire to make sure that she wasn’t alone than any aversion to the SUVs, Emily figured.

Thanks to the painkillers he’d taken, Derek fell asleep partway through the trip, waking only as they pulled into the driveway. The house felt big and empty, as though no-one had lived in it for a week. Too big for just the two of them. Maybe too big for the three of them as well, but that was conversation for another day.

Clooney was overjoyed to see them, barking and running around the yard. He greeted them each in turn as Emily let him inside, not overly fussed by Fran’s presence, nor the fact that Morgan’s arm was in a sling. He jumped onto the sofa as Emily sat down, and proceeded to lick her face. She indulged him for a few seconds before ordering him off. While the sofa wasn’t actually used for guests anymore – they had a spare bedroom with a real bed – once the baby came, it would probably be better if Clooney didn’t continually jump on furniture.

The remainder of the day would probably be spent lazing about – it was too late to do anything of value, and they were too tired, and, in Morgan’s case, too medicated. Even though the events of the last two days hadn’t been physical in nature, Emily found herself mentally and emotionally drained. After threatening and cajoling Morgan into going to bed. Once she heard his soft snores coming in slowly, but steadily, she returned to the kitchen, where Fran was looking through the cupboards.

‘I was going to cook dinner for you, but it looks as though nobody’s done any grocery shopping since I was last here,’ Fran commented, and Emily gave a slight blush. She had scheduled a grocery shop for a couple of days ago, but that emergency call from JJ had ruined those plans. At that point, though, she was too tired to even think about going out to buy something for dinner.

Emily sat at the kitchen table, letting her head fall in her hands. ‘We could…I don’t know. Chinese, or pizza, or something?’

‘You should get some sleep as well,’ Fran said, and it was almost a non-sequitur, before Emily realized just how scattered she probably looked at that point. ‘I’ll sort out dinner.’

‘Are you sure?’ Emily asked, her voice high with what felt like relief.

‘Of course I’m sure. Go – rest.’

Technically speaking, she hadn’t exactly had a shortage of sleep, but the sleep had been restless. She went to the bathroom and washed her face before changing into a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt. The soft material made her feel warm, even though it was so close to winter.

She snuggled into bed beside Morgan, her chest pressed up against his back. Any other configuration would probably hurt his arm a little too much, and while it would be nice to see him out of the field for a while, she didn’t want to inflict any permanent damage. That said, though, they still didn’t know _when_ he would be able to go back to work. The hospital had recommended a follow-up with a physiotherapist and a general practitioner, but those calls would have to wait until tomorrow.

It was dark when she awoke – not “midnight” dark, but the late evening dark that seemed to dominate. The kind that made it perfectly clear that it was far too early to be asleep, but far too late for the lights to still be off.

Derek was still asleep, unstirring. The medication would probably keep him out for a little while longer. Emily’s stomach reminded her that it was probably time to eat, but she didn’t get up straight away. She wanted to relish the warmth of his body against hers, the feel of his heart beneath her fingertips.

She didn’t want to ever come that close to losing him again.

…

The next morning, Morgan had returned to being sullen – as he’d told Emily on many occasions, forced leave (especially sick leave) did not agree with him. Emily knew that left unchecked, that was the kind of attitude that was going to have him back in the hospital again in six months time.

‘We need to talk,’ Emily said, over a plate of bacon, eggs and toast. Morgan looked up at her, startled, and Emily cursed herself for her choice of words. _Real smooth, Prentiss_. ‘God, Derek, not like that.’

He relaxed, but not significantly, and Emily couldn’t blame him. She hesitated, wondering if she was bringing this up too soon. ‘I just…I want you to promise me that you’ll be more careful in the field.’ It was a low blow, and Emily knew it.

‘You think I _wanted_ to get shot?’

‘No – of course not, Derek. But I’m not some clueless girlfriend who thinks that she knows what catching serial killers is like because she watches _CSI_. I _know_ how dangerous the job is, and I _know_ how much you invest in taking down these guys, even if it means risking your own life.’ She bit her lip, not particularly wanting to say the next words, but she did, because she had to. ‘I don’t want our son to grow up without a father.’

A few months ago, Morgan might have reacted angrily, but today, he didn’t. His expression softened, and the look on his face was positively mournful. ‘I’m sorry, babe, I just…I can’t just switch it off.’

‘I know that,’ Emily assured him. ‘And I’m not asking you to quit, or to sit on a desk, or stop going out into the field. Maybe just…make sure you have some back-up when you tackle a moving train, or be a little more careful chasing after an unsub after he’s jumped down the fire escape.’

‘Only if you can promise me the same thing,’ he countered. ‘No getting hit over the head with 2x4s, or blowing your cover and getting beaten up.’

‘I think it’ll be a while before you have to worry about any of that,’ Emily said with a soft smile.

‘I’ll always worry, Emily – you know that.’

Of course he would – and so would she. No matter how careful they were, the nature of the job was that things had the potential to go very, very wrong.

But not today.


	18. Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

Outside, snow fell.

Emily was no longer as excited by the thought of a white Christmas as she had once been. Winters in Russia and Chicago and even D.C. had disillusioned her long ago. This year, more than ever, she wanted the snow to just take a year off. If their flight was delayed any further, she was pretty sure that she was going to punch something.

She wasn’t entirely sure that they would have fared better driving to Chicago; Morgan’s arm was still in a sling, and Emily herself was using the bathroom so often that it probably would have taken them until New Year’s Eve to actually get there. As it was, they were crossing a fine line; Emily had a Doctor’s note clearing her to fly, but not even that would have been any use past a certain date. If there were any unexpected delays on the trip home, then chances were, they’d be hiring a car, regardless of any inconveniences.

With a stomach the size of a blimp, and enough layers to stave off the winter chill, Emily felt a little bit like a Thanksgiving turkey. A very, very disgruntled Thanksgiving turkey.

Their flight had been delayed by the weather, and her back was aching, and by God, she was going to throttle something if she couldn’t sleep sometime within the next decade. She was almost jealous of the fact that Morgan had some kind of ridiculous Zen about the whole thing. Apparently he’d been flying to Chicago every Christmas for long enough to be used to the delays, and the crowds, and all the other horrific things associated with commercial travel.

‘We should have commandeered the jet,’ Emily said matter-of-factly, her head resting against his shoulder. ‘I’m sure JJ could have fudged the paperwork.

‘Do you really think that’s an ethical use of tax dollars?’

‘I don’t _care_ about ethics,’ Emily groaned, fully aware that she was being difficult. ‘Your son is being a pain in my ass. I just want to get to your mother’s place and _sleep_ for the next five days.’

‘Then you’ll miss Christmas,’ he pouted, apparently amused by her discomfort.

‘Well,’ Emily conceded. ‘You’ll save me some pumpkin pie, right?’

‘Babe, if you’re sleeping, I’m gonna be eating _all_ the pie.’

‘I hate you.’

‘You love me.’

‘You are going to be changing _all_ the poopy diapers.’

‘I’m okay with that.’

‘And you can feed him when he starts crying at 2am.’

‘I don’t think I have the anatomy for that.’

‘Science will find a way,’ Emily mumbled, standing abruptly. ‘I need to go to the bathroom.’

‘Again?’ Morgan asked, clearly exasperated. ‘That’s three times in the last hour.’

‘I have a baby the size of a watermelon pressing against my bladder,’ she told him matter-of-factly – not for the first time this month. ‘I’m gonna be peeing a lot.’

It was almost midnight by the time they boarded their plane; in spite of the cramped quarters and upright position, Emily found herself drifting off.  It wasn’t a long flight by any definition – they’d spent more time waiting around the airport than they would in the air – but she slept for most of it anyway.

Morgan’s persistent prods pulled her out of slumber as they began their descent. ‘Hey babe, wake up, we’re landing.’

‘I will _end_ you,’ she growled. The fantastic thing about not working in the BAU anymore meant that she could have regular sleep. Waking up on an airplane at some ungodly hour of the morning was not a fun experience.

‘You end me, and you’ll be the one changing all the diapers,’ Morgan pointed out. Emily groaned, knowing he was right. She attempted to pull herself to a fully seated position, an act made that much more difficult by the protrusion of her stomach.

It was a long time since Emily had last been in Chicago. Cases aside – and there had been a fair few of them – the last time she’d actually been there was when she had worked for the Field Office, almost seven years prior.

If there was time, maybe she could swing by her old neighborhood.

In all honesty, it wasn’t exactly high on her list of “things to do”; she had lived in Chicago for a while, of course, but it had never been _home_. The only place that had ever been home was the Washington Metropolitan Area. Now more than ever.

Morgan’s mother was waiting for them by the baggage claim. Even though it was late, she had insisted on picking them up from the airport; riding the Orange Line at two a.m was not the ideal way to start their Christmas vacation.

‘You didn’t have to wait inside,’ Morgan commented, as his mother pulled him into a tight hug, careful not to bump his slinged arm. ‘I would have called you when we landed – that way you wouldn’t have to pay fifteen bucks for parking.’

Fran gave him a look that said, _I am your mother and I will pay fifteen dollars for parking if I want to_. Emily suppressed a smirk. She had _never_ seen Derek Morgan defer to anyone the way he did to his mother.

They paid for a luggage trolley, because between Emily’s waddling, and Morgan’s still healing bullet wound, carrying their bags could prove disastrous.

In any case, by the time they made it back to the Morgan residence, Emily fell straight into bed. They were staying in what apparently used to be Morgan’s old bedroom, though she wouldn’t have known that if not for the fact that he told her.

The walls were bare, and the bed was fitted with plain navy sheets, and a dark red comforter.

‘Don’t wake me for another nine hours,’ Emily told Morgan matter-of-factly, as she slipped under the covers. The last thing she felt before she drifted off to sleep was his lips pressed against her forehead.

…

In spite of her declaration, it was less than eight hours later when Emily woke; a little past ten in the morning, according to the clock on the bedside table. The important thing, though, was she felt much better than she had the previous night.

Unsurprisingly, the bed beside her was empty; there was no doubt in Emily’s mind that Morgan was sleeping a lot better than her, even if she did have a tendency to steal the blankets sometimes.

Yawning, Emily made her way downstairs, only to find the entire Morgan family seated at the breakfast table. Last night (this morning?) Fran had mentioned something about Sarah and Desiree coming over the next day, but by that time, Emily had been far too exhausted to process that data. The last time she’d seen the Morgan sisters was four years ago, questioning them about Morgan’s past.

No matter how much Emily wanted to change that fact, it would always be there, hanging over them. All going according to plan, though, soon there would be some happier memories to overshadow that first meeting.

Derek greeted her with a warm, passionate kiss, which prompted a wolf-whistle from Sarah. Emily vaguely wondered just how many girls Morgan had actually brought home to meet his family.

‘You remember Sarah and Desiree?’ he asked, gesturing towards the kitchen table. Both sisters stood, each hugging Emily in turn. It was an unexpected greeting, when you were used to stilted handshakes, but they were by no means unwelcome.

‘It’s nice to see you again,’ Emily said, with a smile.

‘We couldn’t wait to meet the woman that made a man out of our baby brother,’ Desiree commented, adding, with a wink, ‘Mostly so we could ask her what she saw in him.’

Emily grinned. ‘Do you really want to know the answer to that question?’ Morgan gave her a horrified look, but the comment prompted only laughter from his mother and sisters.

‘Maybe we could _not_ discuss our sex life in front of my family?’ he whispered, as he led her into the kitchen.

‘Derek, I’m pretty sure they know how babies are made.’

He shook his head, somewhat exasperated. ‘You’re incorrigible.’

‘You wouldn’t have it any other way.’

In spite of the time off they’d had between them, neither Emily nor Morgan had finished their Christmas shopping. Emily had done a good portion of hers online, but she needed Morgan’s input to decide what to get his family.

That was today’s plan.

Providing, of course, the weather didn’t get too ferocious. Providing, of course, she had enough energy to even make it to lunchtime. Providing, of course, she didn’t tear her hair out first.

Aside from groceries, Emily had never actually been shopping with her fiancé. After today, she was pretty sure that she never would again.

It wasn’t that he complained, or that he wanted to look at his own thing. He was just so damn indecisive. They went to four different stores before finding a pair of earrings that suited his tastes. He might have put on a façade of nonchalance, but sometimes, he really could be a picky bitch.

‘I don’t know how you can be so impulsive, yet so choosy,’ Emily commented, when they finally stopped for lunch. Her feet were killing her, and Derek couldn’t decide what he wanted to eat.

‘You okay?’ he asked, the furrowed brow of indecision softening into an expression of concern.

‘Just a little grumpy,’ she admitted. After all, it probably wouldn’t have been a problem if she wasn’t eight months pregnant. ‘And tired, and sore.’

‘Well, how about we eat, and then I’ll take you home and give you a foot rub,’ he suggested.

‘You better be rubbing other things too,’ Emily groaned. They hadn’t had sex in over twenty-four hours, and her libido was starting to go into overdrive.

After that comment, Morgan was a lot quicker in his choosing.

It was mid-afternoon by the time they made it home. Fran called out a greeting from the living room, where she was watching television.

Emily set the bags containing the day’s purchases down on the ground, shrugging off her coat before flopping (at least, as much as she could flop) onto the bed. Morgan sat down beside her, slipping off his sling.

Emily shot him a concerned look. ‘You sure that’s a good idea, Derek?’

‘How am I supposed to give you a good foot rub with one hand?’

‘I don’t want you to hurt yourself.’

‘I won’t,’ he assured her. ‘Anyway, it’s almost healed.’ He took her shoes off carefully, rubbing the ball and heel of her right foot through the sock.

‘Oh, that’s good,’ she moaned. ‘My ankles feel like balloons.’

‘They’re the most beautiful ankles I’ve ever seen,’ he said, rolling off her sock, and kissing the aforementioned ankle.

‘Ankles in general don’t exactly scream “beautiful,”’ Emily commented. ‘Especially not swollen ones.’

‘Stop being so self-deprecating and let me love you,’ he ordered, and Emily grinned.

‘So how do you want to do this?’ she asked, pulling her sweater over her head. Sex over the past month had been awkward at best, thanks to Morgan’s injury. Emily had found herself topping more often, but realistically speaking, that made for easier penetration anyway, thanks to the size of her stomach.

‘You really want to have sex with my mother downstairs?’ he asked, even as he started stripping.

‘She’s watching TV,’ Emily pointed out. ‘And I can stop myself from screaming.’

Morgan smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of her stomach. ‘I like it when you scream.’

‘There’ll be plenty of time for that when we’re home – _alone_. Now hurry up and fuck me.’

‘I love it when you sweet talk,’ he grinned, lying down beside her, clad only in his boxers. His erection poked through the button-hole, and Emily wanted it inside her _now_. Considering her sex drive, if they included foreplay in the equation, then they’d be far too busy engaging in sexual activity to ever do anything else.

On some levels, Emily would have been absolutely okay with that, but at least one of them needed to be going to work, and playing solo wasn’t nearly as fun.

She wriggled out of her maternity jeans, hyperaware of the way her stomach bulged. It wasn’t something she found particularly flattering, but Morgan seemed strangely turned on by her body. Not least of all because her breasts felt like they had doubled in size.

‘Let me,’ he said, when she moved to pull off her shirt. He lifted it slowly, savoring the sight, as though it were the first time he’d ever seen her naked. She kind of loved that about him. His lips caressed the peaks of her breasts as he moved around to unhook the clasp of her bra, careful not to let his weight press against her stomach.

‘We should probably…’ Emily gestured, and they shifted awkwardly, until Emily found herself straddling a very naked Derek Morgan. His hands reached upwards to rub at her nipples, and she took the opportunity to adjust her position, sheathing his cock within her.

‘Oh baby, you feel so good,’ he murmured. ‘I’m going to miss this,’ he admitted, as Emily started to move against him.

‘What,’ she frowned. ‘Sex? Or going bareback?’

‘Bareback.’

‘I was thinking about looking at a more permanent form of birth control,’ she told him. ‘Not like that,’ she clarified hastily. ‘I’m not opposed to the idea of more children, but I kinda want to have this one first. I just figured we didn’t have the best luck with condoms the first time around.’

‘I dunno,’ Morgan grinned, squeezing her breasts lightly. ‘All things considered, I’d say we had some pretty fucking amazing luck.’

Emily did not disagree.

Half an hour later, when they made their way back downstairs, Fran was in the kitchen. ‘You two have fun?’ she asked, with a knowing smile.

Emily felt her cheeks start to burn. She shot Derek a helpless look. If she was embarrassed, then that was _nothing_ compared to the look on Morgan’s face. ‘I told you so,’ he whispered. ‘She always knows.’

‘That’s because I’m your mother, sweetie.’ Fran smiled. ‘I know everything.’

The thought was a little disconcerting, considering the fact that they would be staying in Chicago for the next _week_. She had made a promise to be home by New Years, so that she and Derek could spend at least some of the holiday season with her own parents.

‘It was only suspicious since it’s the middle of the afternoon,’ Fran added, helpfully. ‘If you’d done it at night, I wouldn’t have said anything.’

‘Okay, Mom,’ Derek interjected. ‘I’m not seventeen anymore – you don’t need to give me any helpful tips.’

Emily choked on the laugh in her throat, and Morgan gave her a look that said, _We are never discussing this_ ever _again._ Emily was perfectly happy with that arrangement.

They were much more discreet after that.

When Christmas Day came, Emily found herself uncharacteristically ecstatic. As a child, Christmas did not have the same meaning to her as it did to everyone else. For Emily, it had meant being on her best behavior, and spending the evening being polite to foreign dignitaries that she neither knew nor cared about.

There had been feasts, but never just the family. There had been gifts, but not the kinds of things a six-year-old girl would have been excited to receive.

Adulthood hadn’t been much better; watching TV with a frozen dinner for one and a bottle of wine, or, even more depressingly, stuck in an interrogation room trying to talk a confession out of a sexual sadist.

In many ways, this was her first _real_ Christmas, and she couldn’t have been more excited. Not just at the thought of spending it with family, but at the thought that she would be doing this every year, from now on.

God damn, it felt good.

‘You’re glowing,’ Morgan commented, as the curled together by the fireplace.

‘Must be all the radium you keep feeding me.’

‘What can I say? I want superbabies.’ He brushed her hair back from her face. ‘Seriously, though – you’re glowing.’

‘I’m happy,’ she told him matter-of-factly. ‘Happier than I’ve ever been in my entire life.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Me too,’ he answered, and Emily felt a warmth in her chest that had absolutely nothing to do with the fire.

Life was good.

…

Two weeks later found Emily back at work, even if she was restricted to her desk all day. Pragmatically speaking, she should have already started on her maternity leave, but lying in bed all day held little to no appeal.

It was a little after eight a.m. Technically, she was early, but JJ’s phone call had dragged Morgan out of bed at three o’clock in the morning.

 _Why was it always so damn early?_

In any case, deprived of her human blanket, Emily had come into work early to sort out some cases that needed her attention.

At 8.23, her water broke.

 _Shit, shit, shit._

 _Not today._

‘Everything okay, Emily?’ Emily liked Agent Ramirez, she really did. But it was quite possibly the stupidest question he could have asked.

‘No,’ she breathed. ‘Fuck.’

‘Oh, God. You’re in labor.’

‘No shit,’ Emily snapped. ‘Can someone call Derek for me please?’ She stopped. ‘Wait. No. He’s on the jet. Someone tell Technical Analyst Garcia – she has a direct line to the team.’

 _Fuck._

 _This wasn’t how things were supposed to have gone._

Understatement of the year.

If nothing else, then she hoped like hell that Derek Morgan would make it home in time to see the birth of his son.


	19. Chapter 19

‘So we have an unsub that’s kidnapping his victims once every three weeks and killing them after two,’ Morgan said, staring at the file in front of him. ‘What does he do in the one week gap?’

‘He could be preparing for his next kill,’ suggested JJ.

‘Sure,’ Rossi nodded. ‘One week stalking the victims to make sure he knows the routines – which means he already has another one picked out.’

‘Garcia, what connections do we have between the victims so far?’ Hotch asked, directing his question towards the laptop on the table.

‘ _Nothing so far, oh mighty one. I am trawling through their lives like a businessman in the red-light district, so unless my mad skills have been compromised, I should be able to find something to link these ladies together._ ’ Morgan heard a knock over the speakers. The technical analyst’s head jerked away from the screen, looking towards the door. ‘ _I will be back in two shakes of a lamb’s tail, my darlings._ ’

Morgan strained his ears trying to overhear the conversation Garcia seemed to be having, but the connection was not the best. There was something that sounded like…squealing.

Seconds later, Garcia returned, the expression on her face half excited, half terrified. ‘ _Emily’s in labor_ ,’ she told them, and Morgan felt his heart seize up. His fiancée was about to give birth to their first child, and he was however many thousand feet high in the air flying across the country. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be happening.

His head turned slightly towards Hotch, the Unit Chief’s face as stoic as ever. ‘The one thing I regret more than anything is missing Jack’s birth,’ he said, and Morgan nodded. From Hotch, that was a damn good endorsement.

‘You’ve got this?’ he asked a little uncertainly, his heart racing a thousand beats a minute.

‘We’ve got this,’ confirmed Rossi.

Morgan gave a shaky sigh. They were still three hours out from Seattle; even if he had a direct turnaround, it would be at least nine hours until he made it back to D.C. There was a chance he might miss the birth anyway, but he had to try. In any case, there was no way he was going to miss the aftermath. The job had almost cost them everything already.

At the airport, the rest of the team disembarked, and Morgan was dismayed to find out that the jet had to be refueled. He stepped off with them, clenching his fists. JJ gave him a grimace. ‘Good luck,’ she told him. ‘She’ll say a lot of things that she probably doesn’t mean, and don’t let the screaming bother you either. Everything will be worth it in the end.’

He stepped back onto the jet, his whole body tense. He found the co-pilot – Steve? Sam? – sitting in one of the chairs, nursing a bottle of coke.

‘They don’t like it when I drink on the job,’ he grinned. ‘We were expecting to stay the night in Seattle, but getting you back to see your kid born is way more important.’

Morgan took the seat opposite Steve – it was almost definitely Steve. ‘You have kids?’

Steve nodded. ‘Three of them. All complete terrors. Best thing that ever happened to me. Cheryl wants to be a pilot just like her daddy, and Ricky wants to be a garbage truck driver, and Simon can’t quite talk yet, but he crawls like a madman, so I’m thinking he might end wanting to be a bulldozer.’

Morgan laughed, in spite of himself. It was clear that Steve was trying to keep him distracted from the tension, and on some levels it was working. He couldn’t quite get the thought out of his head that Emily was going through this unspeakable pain alone.

Well, not alone.

There would be doctors and nurses, and maybe Emily’s mother had made it to the hospital, but the main thing was that she was going through it without _him_.

Steve bid him farewell, and Morgan stared at his phone for a good minute, deciding whether or not he should try and get through to the hospital. It was a no-brainer.

After twenty minutes, he finally made it through, and found himself talking to Ambassador Prentiss, who had, apparently, made it to the hospital.

‘Can I talk to her?’ he asked, and was passed over almost immediately. ‘Hey, girl.’

‘ _Hey_.’ Emily’s voice was shaky, and he could hear the strain from that single word. ‘ _Baby’s early._ ’

‘So I hear. I should be there within a few hours. I’m so sorry, Em.’

She gave a protracted whimper. ‘ _It’s okay. It’s okay. Just please…try to get here._ ’

‘I will. You try and keep that baby inside of you a little longer.’

‘ _I don’t think I have the strength to hold on that long._ ’

‘You are the strongest person I know – you are going to be fine, and our son is going to be fine. I love you so much. Don’t forget that.’

‘ _I haven’t forgotten,_ ’ Emily told him. ‘ _But I think I’m feeling a little hostile towards_ you _right now._ ’ She gave a short laugh that was trembling, and high, and almost nothing like her regular laugh. ‘ _You are_ definitely _having the next child. Either that, or I’m asking for better drugs. These really don’t feel like they’re working._ ’

His heart almost snapped in that moment, and he felt like he would have done anything to somehow cross the country in a manner of seconds just to be by her side. To know that he couldn’t was more frustrating than any difficult case, more frustrating than any narcissistic unsub.

Rather than inflicting any property damage, he let his fist punch down on his leg. ‘I am so sorry, baby.’

‘ _You know you don’t have to apologize about that_.’ She took a breath. ‘ _Maybe apologize for knocking me up instead. If his size is anything to go by, your son is going to be a hell of a footballer._ ’

He didn’t bother telling her that size wasn’t everything when it came to football – what she was trying to tell him had absolutely nothing to do with sport.

Steve poked his head into the cabin, making a gesture that told Morgan they were ready to take off. He had been too preoccupied with Emily to pay attention to what was going on around him, but apparently the refueling had finished.

‘I gotta go,’ he told her. ‘The jet’s about to take off.’

‘ _You commandeered the jet to get back to me? Mr. Morgan, I am impressed._ ’

‘Emily, I would move mountains to get back to you. I will be there. That is a promise.’ He said his goodbyes, and hung up the phone, leaving him in a silent, empty jet. Remembering Clooney, he sent Frank a brief text message, knowing that there was absolutely no way that he’d be making it home tonight.

Soon, the plane started to vibrate, followed by a persistent whir that told him that they were about to start takeoff.

He had a book in his bag, as well as an iPod full of music, but he didn’t have the patience for either of those activities. Intermittently, he paced the jet and stared at the walls, knowing without a doubt that the five hours he spent in the air would be the longest of his life.

It felt like years later when they finally touched down, and Morgan grabbed his bag and ran, only half surprised to see Agent Anderson waiting for him.

‘Agent Hotchner called ahead,’ Anderson told him. ‘Let’s get you to the hospital.’

Vaguely, Morgan wondered just what percentage of Bureau resources were being spent on getting him to Emily, but he dropped that though almost immediately, far more concerned about the traffic, the speed of the SUV, and every other little thing that was impeding his progress. He tried calling the hospital again, but this time, could not get through.

‘Just hold on, Em,’ he muttered, gripping the handle above the passenger’s side door. ‘I’ll be there soon.’

Anderson shot him a sympathetic look, and stepped on the gas just a little bit harder.

Once they got to the hospital, it took him five minutes to find the maternity ward, and another five to find Emily’s room. He stepped inside, and if he was out of breath from running around the hospital, if he was exhausted from two back-to-back flights, then it was chump change compared to what Emily had been experiencing. Her body was covered in a thin layer of sweat, her hair falling in wet, stringy clumps. Her eyes were closed, and breaths were coming in short, sharp gasps.

‘Emily,’ he breathed, and her eyes snapped open.

‘Derek.’ She broke out into a grin, which faltered quickly, as another contraction ripped through her. ‘This is taking forever,’ she told him, once it had passed, with a pout that was ridiculously endearing. He sat down in the empty chair beside her bed – one he suspected that her mother had provided, and gripped her hand.

‘I’m here now,’ he told her, his gaze deadly serious. ‘I’m not letting go.’ In some ways, he felt older, more responsible, than he had ever been before. It was kind of scary.

If it took a long time for him, it must have felt like eternity for Emily. He’d never witnessed childbirth before, having been in Vegas for Henry’s birth. According to Garcia, JJ’s labor had taken fifteen or so hours, a time span he couldn’t quite comprehend until now.

Seven hours later, the look on Emily’s face was a little less endearing, a little more heartbreaking. There were tears rolling down her cheeks, and she’d moved beyond irrational anger, which terrified him more than anything else.

 According to the nurse, it was still a while before anything significant would be happening, so when Emily told him to go outside to get some fresh air, he only argued briefly before complying. Part of him wondered if he was smothering her; if she wanted a little bit of space – something that had been in short supply over recent months. After three years of being apart, it was like making up for lost time.

Noting the voicemail message on his cell, he called Hotch, wondering if there was some kind of profiling insight that the team needed. Truthfully, he was far too tired, far too wrung out to be thinking about profiling.

As it turned out, though, it had nothing to do with profiling. ‘ _How’s_ _Emily?_ ’ JJ asked, which meant that he was on speakerphone.

He shook his head, knowing that they couldn’t see it. ‘Still going strong, but it’s taking its toll. Does it usually take this long?’ The question was mostly directed towards Reid, who, unsurprisingly, had a ready answer.

‘ _For women undergoing their first childbirth, approximately two in ten labors will last longer than twenty-four hours._ ’ Morgan blinked, unsure that he’d heard Reid correctly. Twenty-four _hours_? That was a whole _day_.

More than anything, that revelation reinforced the fact that he needed to be back inside ten minutes ago.

‘I’m going to turn my phone off,’ he told them. ‘I’ll give you a call when…when he’s here.’ The words seemed wrong in every way, yet he couldn’t think of another way to describe it. “When it’s over” seemed a little too blasé. After all, this was a day that he was going to remember for the rest of his life. This was the day that the last nine months had led up to. Maybe this was the day that his whole life was leading up to.

It was with a renewed strength that he returned inside, smiling when Emily’s eyes lit up.

‘How’s the case going?’ she asked, no doubt eager to take her mind off the pain.

‘I don’t know,’ he told her honestly. ‘I didn’t ask.’

‘Oh,’ was all she said, gripping his hand once more. It was another hour before things really started to happen, and if it had been moving too slowly before, now it seemed too fast for Morgan to fully take stock of the situation.

He was vaguely aware of his heart pumping away like a jackhammer as they moved Emily to the birthing room. Vaguely aware of the way her hand squeezed his. Each time she screamed, it was as though someone had stabbed him in the heart.

Eventually, though, an entirely different scream pierced the air, and it was the most beautiful sound that Morgan had heard in his entire life. Maybe, in three or four weeks, things would be different, but now, that cry meant that he was a _father_. He stared down at his son, still covered in what Morgan could best describe as goop.

‘And we have a healthy looking baby boy,’ the nurse announced, and Derek could not even hope to prevent the grin that split his face from ear to ear.

Christopher Matthew Morgan.

His _son_.

‘Is he okay?’ Emily asked, wincing as she tried to straighten up and see.

‘He’s fine,’ the nurse provided. ‘We’ll just cut the cord, then check baby boy over, and then you can hold your son.’ Emily gave a sound that was half gasp, half laugh, but fully exhausted. Morgan brushed his hand along her cheek, damp with sweat.

‘You did good.’

‘Gee, thanks.’

Morgan watched with curiosity as the nurse cleaned the baby down. Chris’s caramel skin looked soft and wrinkled, his nose and lips and cheeks pudgy. Morgan knew what Reid said about parents finding their own children more appealing than the offspring of others, but goddamn this kid was the cutest thing he had ever seen.

At Emily’s behest, he accompanied the nurse to the attached room, where she weighed Christopher. He seemed small, which worried Morgan at first, especially considering the fact that he was two weeks early, but the nurse pronounced him at a healthy seven and a quarter pounds. She performed a variety of other tests – many of which Morgan was not entirely sure of their function – but in the end, all he really cared was that she pronounced him as healthy.

For Morgan, that was all that mattered. That was all that mattered the first time he took his son into his arms – he was so light, so fragile. He could close his eyes and imagine the boy at preschool, on a swing, playing football. He held his future in his arms, and it was the most amazing thing in the universe.

‘You can feed him now,’ the nurse told Emily, as they returned to the birthing room. ‘It will help with the birth of the placenta.’ It didn’t take a profiler to notice the anxiety lift from Emily’s body, as though she had expected him to run off with her child.

Emily gave a shaky breath as she took the boy into her arms, skin against skin.

‘Wait,’ Morgan said quickly, pulling out his phone. He snapped the very first picture of mother and child together – something that Garcia would no doubt be eager to have printed on a t-shirt.

Emily let her nipple brush against the infant’s cheek, and he quickly suckled onto her breast. Her expression changed quickly. ‘God…this feels weird,’ she breathed, though from her tone of voice, what she meant was “amazingly weird.” She grinned. ‘Somehow it’s not quite the same as when you do it.’ She brushed the dark curls that adorned Chris’s head. ‘You don’t have to watch this,’ she told him. ‘And you definitely don’t have to wait for the afterbirth.’

‘I _want_ to be here,’ he told her.

‘Or,’ she countered. ‘Or, you could go tell my mother that she has a grandson.’

He gave her a mock pout. ‘Are you kicking me out?’

‘No, I’m relieving you of your partnerly burden. You’ve been by my side for the last ten hours – I’ll be fine for ten minutes.’

Morgan conceded defeat. After all, he was itching to call his own mother as well – not to mention the fact that the team’s attention would be distracted until he called them with news. It was all just so goddamn surreal.

He stepped out into the hallway, Ambassador Prentiss standing quickly as he shut the door behind him. All the times he had met Emily’s mother, she had been elegant and dignified – the picture perfect diplomat. Today, she looked like a mother – simultaneous anxious and overjoyed at the events occurring.

‘It’s a boy,’ he told her, even though that was news that had been revealed months previously. ‘Seven and a quarter pounds, with a nice set of lungs on him.’

‘What’s his name?’ Elizabeth asked, with that urgency that seemed unique to grandmothers.

‘Christopher Matthew Morgan.’

He saw her spark of recognition at his son’s middle name, but she said nothing, instead giving a wide smile that seemed almost incongruous with the personality that he knew.

‘They’re still waiting on the afterbirth,’ he told her. ‘But I think they want to move her back to her room pretty quick.’ He held up his phone. ‘I was just gonna go…’

‘Of course,’ the Ambassador nodded, with quickly regained composure.

Outside, it was cold, but there was a warmth in Morgan’s heart that no winter could ever put out. Still, he tugged his coat around himself as he called his mother.

‘ _Sweetie, is something wrong?_ ’ where the first words Fran spoke, at which point Morgan realized that it was almost a quarter past one. Quarter past midnight in Chicago, but definitely too late to call for some trivial matter.

‘I just wanted to call and say that I have officially given you a grandbaby. So you can quit nagging me.’

Fran immediately set upon asking him a series of questions, ranging from the name, to the height of the nurse that had delivered him. Morgan answered the questions as best he could, but unlike Reid, he did not possess an eidetic memory. Still, he should have known better than to expect that it would have been a short conversation – it was almost twenty minutes later when he hung up, citing his need to get back to Emily, who was almost certainly wondering where he was by now.

There was still one more thing that he had to do, though. Opening the picture of mother and son that he had taken earlier, he added the caption, “Christopher Matthew Morgan, born January 8th, 1:04am,” and sent the message out to five very important people.

 They weren’t blood, but they were family.

No matter what.


	20. Chapter 20

The following day, Emily woke late.

It had been more than twelve hours since she’d given birth, but her body still ached, and the exhaustion was still overwhelming. Both factors would remain for at least a few more months, but it was all worth it.

First, she looked to the side of her bed, and found that Morgan was not there. A brief panic set in, before her eyes drifted to the bassinette. He stood there, and though she couldn’t see his eyes, she knew that his expression was one of unwavering warmth.

More than anything else in the world, more than anything he had ever done, Derek Morgan would love this child. He would tackle unsubs and kick down doors and leap tall buildings with a single bound, but more amazing, more impressive, more heroic than that was the love that was in his heart.

He probably didn’t even know it himself.

Slowly, she pulled herself out of bed, wincing at the pain. Compared to everything she’d been through in her life, this was nothing. Emily Prentiss had been stabbed, and concussed, and beaten up – while none of them had hurt as much as childbirth did, none of them had anything near the same kind of reward. Every single pain receptor that fired was worth it.

‘Hey.’ Morgan rushed to her side, putting an arm around her. He knew better than to send her back to bed, so instead, he let her lean on him as they stood above their son. He was so peaceful in sleep.

Soon enough, he’d be crawling, then walking, then running. Riding a bicycle, running a marathon, chasing down an unsub. If her son wanted to take that path in life, she wouldn’t do anything to stop him – not in the way her own mother had tried. She would discourage, but in the end…

Well, in the end, she wanted to keep him as innocent as possible.

If there was a bigger pipe dream, she hadn’t heard of it.

 **…**

Both Emily and Christopher were asleep when Morgan pulled into the driveway. Even though it was still relatively early in the evening, the sun had set, and Morgan felt the exhaustion of the past few days. He nudged Emily awake. She rolled in her seat, groaning. The birth had taken a lot out of her; even after two days, she was still exhausted. He didn’t blame her.

‘We’re home, princess,’ he whispered, careful not to let his voice get too loud. If Chris awoke, then Emily would find an excuse to stay up even longer.

‘I’ve got him,’ Morgan assured her, as she turned back to check on their new-born son. ‘You go upstairs and get some sleep.’

She stared at him, blinking, clearly torn between the two options. ‘Hey,’ he assured her. ‘He’ll still be here when you wake up. You need to rest.’ She agreed finally, grabbing the bags out of the trunk, while Morgan went to great pains to get Chris out of the car without waking him.

He ascended the staircase slowly, careful not to misstep. They’d set up the bassinet in their room for now. For the first few months, it would be easier to deal with the constant waking if he was close by. Emily sat at the edge of the bed, pajamas clutched in one hand as she watched him put their son to bed for the first time. Tears shone in her eyes.

Morgan sat down beside her. ‘Hey. Everything okay?’

Emily smiled. ‘Yeah, it’s just…God, Derek, we’re _parents._ ’ She shook her head. ‘Did you want to go pick Clooney up?’

Morgan looked at the clock. It wasn’t too late, and the dog would be ecstatic to see them both again. ‘You’ll be alright here?’

Emily gave him a tired nod. ‘I can handle it, Derek.’

He nodded, and then made his way downstairs, and out the front door, deadlocking it, even though he’d be back in less than five minutes. A lot could happen in five minutes.

Next door, a tall, grizzled man in a white t-shirt and jeans greeted him. ‘Hey, Morgan.’ Frank Gorman lifted his beer in some kind of salute. ‘Boy or girl?’ In the background, he heard paws clattering on tile.

‘Boy,’ Morgan announced, prepared for the 60 odd pounds of German Shepherd that tried to jump him a moment later. Clara, Frank’s Doberman, joined the scene, looking over at Morgan expectantly. ‘Christopher Matthew Morgan.’

‘And how’s Emily?’

‘Tired,’ Morgan said, with a slight grimace. He was tired too, and Frank seemed to notice that, so he didn’t talk for very much longer. Morgan led Clooney up the driveway, and the dog went straight to the front door, wagging his tail excitedly.

‘Not tonight, buddy,’ Morgan said with a weary sigh. The “dog and baby meet” was something that he’d prefer to do with everyone awake, and not feeling as though their limbs were about to fall off. He let Clooney through the side gate, trusting that the dog could make his own way to the kennel. Part of him felt bad for doing, as though he was ignoring the friend that had brought him so much comfort over the years. ‘I’m sorry, Cloon…Just give me a couple of days, alright?’ The dog stared at him, clearly not understanding a single word he’d said. Morgan knelt down, and rubbed the dog’s head. ‘Good night.’

He trudged the stairs slowly, exhaustion consuming him entirely. He stepped into the bedroom to find Emily standing over the bassinette, staring down at Chris.

‘Everything okay?’ Morgan asked, wrapping an arm around her waist. She leaned into his shoulder.

‘Yeah. How’s Clooney?’

‘A little mopey, but he’ll live. How’re _you_?’

He couldn’t see her smile, but he felt it. ‘Sore and tired, but that doesn’t really matter right now.’ There was a pause. ‘We _made_ him, Derek. This…perfect little boy, with ten fingers, and ten toes, and his Daddy’s smile.’

‘He’s not smiling yet,’ Morgan pointed out.

‘He will. And when he does, it’ll look just like yours – trust me on that. The girls are going to have to watch out, because he will be one hell of a charmer.’

‘Just like his Daddy?’

‘Just like his Daddy,’ Emily confirmed.

Morgan pressed a kiss to the top of her head. ‘Let’s get some sleep while we can,’ he murmured into her hair.

“While we can,” turned out to be almost three hours, which was better than he had hoped.

‘Somebody’s hungry,’ Emily groaned, but she didn’t move straight away.

‘Is that a hungry cry?’ Morgan asked. ‘It could be a poopy cry.’

‘If it’s a poopy cry, then you’re changing him,’ she muttered, standing. He didn’t argue that point – after all, Emily was the one that had been dealing with the back pain, and the swollen ankles, and the hours of excruciating labor. He could change a few poopy diapers.

It was a hungry cry. Morgan catalogued the sound into his memory, and took the opportunity to use the bathroom while Emily fed Chris.

Since they’d pretty much gone straight to bed after getting home, he figured he should probably brush his teeth as well. By the time he got out, Emily had their son pressed against her shoulder, as she patted his back softly.

‘I can do that,’ he offered.

Emily nodded. ‘I was going to have a shower,’ she told him. ‘You’ll be alright?’

He grinned. ‘Sure.’ He took Chris from Emily, and let her throw the cloth over his shoulder. It was an old shirt, but he didn’t really want to get spit-up all over it. Supporting Chris’s head, he looked at his son. ‘He seems happy.’

‘Gas,’ Emily told him, with a pointed look. Morgan grinned at the memory. Emily kissed his cheek and retreated to the bathroom.

Once the gas had expelled, for lack of a better word, Morgan laid the boy in his bassinette. Dark brown eyes stared upwards. He knew from Reid’s endless facts on the matter that his son couldn’t see very well yet, but he wanted to believe that those eyes were looking right up at him.

‘You don’t want to sleep just yet, do you?’ he said, the question more of a statement than anything else. The start of a second cry seemed to confirm that fact. ‘Hey, it’s okay, buddy. Daddy’s here. Daddy will always be here for you.’

He scanned the nearest bookshelf, which happened to be Emily’s. Her reading selection seemed to have a lot more younger themed books than his own. He thought back to that day, not too long ago, when she’d read Hotch’s son to sleep as they moved into the house.

He took the well-read paperback from the shelf, and flicked it open to the right page. ‘This book is a pretty special book,’ he said, not caring even a little that his words probably sounded like gibberish to the infant. ‘My Daddy read it to me when I was a kid, and I know that it’s one of your Mommy’s favorite books too. It’s about treasure, and dragons, and adventure. One day you’re going to step out into this big, wide world, and we’re going to make sure you’re prepared for that.’ He took a breath, feeling kind of weird, and then put on his best Narrator voice. ‘ _In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort._ ’

Chris seemed to settle then, but Morgan gathered that it was the sound of his voice, rather than the words themselves, so he kept reading until those tiny eyes fluttered shut. He looked up and saw Emily, leaning against the bathroom door.

‘How long have you been standing there?’

‘About five minutes,’ she answered, coming to stand beside him. ‘You can read to me any time – you’ve got a great voice.’

‘You love me for more than my voice, though, right?’ He stood, enveloping her in a hug.

‘Yeah,’ Emily agreed. ‘I love your abs, too.’ She pressed her head against his. ‘It's a dangerous business, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no telling where you might be swept off to.’

‘Did I sweep you off your feet?’ he asked.

Emily gave a soft laugh. ‘I think you tackled me off my feet.’

‘That sounds about right,’ he said. ‘Now let’s try and get a few more hours in before someone decides he’s hungry again.’

‘Oh, Agent Morgan,’ Emily murmured. ‘I like the way you think.’

...

It was three days later, when the team returned from Seattle. Emily was tired, but in a good way. Whatever else had happened in her life, she loved motherhood, and she loved her son.

‘Everything okay?’ she asked Morgan, who was busy in the kitchen.

‘Beer’s in the fridge, so’s the juice for Reid and the kids, and all the meat is ready to go,’ he answered. While cooking was something he claimed to lack skill in, somehow, barbecuing did not fit into that niche.

‘Salads?’ she queried, and he gave her a look.

‘You don’t have to nag me, woman. I am perfectly capable of being a domestic goddess.’

Emily bit back laughter at the thought of her fiancé in a maid’s outfit, complete with feather duster. It certainly wasn’t what she’d had in mind when she’d agreed to marry him.

‘Fine,’ she conceded. ‘I will leave you to your manliness. I’m gonna go check on Chris.’

If all went according to plans, he’d be up around about the time the team arrived, wide awake and ready to be pinched, prodded and cooed over. They would probably need to put a time limit on Garcia’s baby allowance.

As expected, the technical analyst and her boyfriend were the first to arrive, along with a plateful of desserts, and a plush laptop.

‘I know I already got him a lot of stuff, but then I just saw this, and it was the cutest little thing.’

‘Thanks.’ Emily gave her a hug. ‘Now you need to promise me that you will not teach my son to hack the Pentagon.’

‘I promise that I will not teach your son to hack the Pentagon,’ she avowed. ‘But I am well within my rights to teach him how to hack other things. Now where is the adorable offspring of two of my most awesome friends?’

Emily made Garcia sit down on the sofa before she went upstairs to bring Chris down. Garcia was practically bouncing, by the time Emily returned, gently handing the boy over.

‘Do you want a drink, Kevin?’ Emily asked, leading him into the kitchen. Morgan was outside, prepping the grill.

‘That would be great, Agent Prentiss.’

Emily stared at him. ‘Seriously, Kevin. You don’t need to call me Agent Prentiss.’

‘Sorry,’ he said, nervously, accepting the beer that Emily passed him. ‘And congratulations. Penelope has been super-excited at the thought of another baby to pamper. Frankly, I think Agent Jareau is a bit sick of all the attention by now.’

Emily laughed. ‘Yeah. I can imagine.’ She gave a slight frown. Kevin didn’t seem the least bit perturbed by the excitement that his girlfriend expressed regarding the matter. ‘What about you two – are we going to see some little Lynches coming into the world soon?’

Kevin gave a conspiratorial smile. ‘Don’t tell anyone,’ he said, digging into his pocket. He pulled out a small black velvet box. ‘But I’m gonna ask her to marry me.’

‘That’s great,’ Emily said with a smile. ‘You two make a great couple.’

Things had been difficult over the last few years, but somehow, it was all coming together.

Reid, Hotch and JJ and Will arrived in quick succession, Hotch and JJ with children in tow. Morgan came in to greet, and demand that Reid help him at the grill.

‘Can I see your son first?’ Reid asked doubtfully, and Morgan grinned.

‘I guess that’s okay.’

The doorbell rang again, and Emily excused herself to go answer.

‘I brought more beer,’ Rossi said by way of greeting, holding up a six-pack.

‘Well, I know Morgan’s of the opinion that one can never have too much beer at a barbecue.’ Emily let him inside. ‘Even if it is a winter barbecue.’

She took him into the living room, where Reid was holding Chris, much to both of their discomfort. ‘I’ll take him,’ Emily offered, and Reid’s eyes were immediately filled with relief. Emily imagined that Garcia had been complicit in that affair.

‘So…’ Emily said, cradling her son. ‘This is Christopher.’ She stared down at the boy. He was so beautiful. She didn’t deserve this.

‘Hey.’ Rossi put a hand to Emily’s shoulder, at which point she realized she was crying.

‘It’s just…after what I did, I never thought I’d have this chance…and now I do, I feel like…’

‘Don’t ever think that you are a bad person, Emily. The team loves you, and more importantly, Derek Morgan loves you, no matter what.’

‘I know,’ she nodded. ‘I know.’ There was a long pause. ‘There was something I wanted to ask you. I spoke with Derek about this, and he thinks…he agrees with me.’

Rossi looked at her quizzically. ‘What is it, Emily?’

‘Did you want to be Chris’s godfather?’ she asked.

Rossi didn’t answer straight away.

‘Forget it,’ Emily said quickly. ‘I mean…it was a silly idea.’

‘It’s not a silly idea,’ Rossi countered. ‘But it’s a big thing to say yes to – are you sure you want _me_?’

Emily laughed. ‘I wouldn’t have asked if we weren’t sure.’ Because he was right – it _was_ a big thing to say yes to. After all, with the work they did, there was a very real chance that one day, they wouldn’t be coming home. ‘You don’t need to answer straight away. Just…think about it. It would mean a lot to me – to us.’

Rossi nodded. ‘Of course.’

‘You should hold him,’ Emily said decidedly, and Rossi hesitated only briefly before taking Chris in his arms.

‘I regret not having kids sometimes,’ he said. ‘But then I remember the women I was married to, and realize that maybe it was for the best.’

‘I think if I’ve learned anything over the last years, it’s that life can give you one hell of a surprise.’

‘I think he’s asleep,’ Rossi said, brushing Chris’s back softly.

‘You’re getting started on boring him to sleep pretty early, aren’t you?’ Emily laughed. ‘Let me take him upstairs. He’s had a big day.’

She padded up the stairs slowly, careful not to jostle Chris. He was a surprisingly sound sleeper, but she didn’t want to take any chances.

‘Hey.’ Emily turned at the sound of Morgan’s voice as she adjusted the baby monitor. ‘How’s he doing?’

‘Pretty sure he’s exhausted,’ Emily said. ‘Which makes two of us. Big day.’

‘Big year,’ Morgan replied. ‘I left Reid to turn the meat. I think he’s developing some kind of algorithm.’

‘I love you,’ Emily said, which felt somewhat non-sequitur, but it really, really wasn’t. ‘It might be the overload of hormones talking, but I love you more than anything in the world.’

‘Well I know it’s not the hormones talking for me, and I love you too,’ he replied, wrapping his arms around her stomach. ‘Is it too soon to talk about having another one?’

Emily shot him a death glare.

‘I’m kidding,’ he assured her, with a laugh. ‘I think we’ll have our hands full with just one for the next eighteen years.’

‘If we can find a way for you to carry it to term, I’ll think about it,’ she answered. ‘I’m still sore from this one.’

‘I can give you a massage,’ he offered. ‘Though I don’t know if that will help.’

‘We have guests,’ Emily reminded him. ‘And I’m pretty sure they’re starting to get hungry.’

‘Fine,’ Morgan conceded. ‘I’m getting pretty hungry, too.’

‘You’re always hungry.’ Emily took his hand in hers, and took one last look at their son before they made their way back downstairs.

She had never been happier in her life.

 


	21. Chapter 21

Epilogue

 _Fourteen months later_

It was decidedly warm for March, but not so warm that it felt like summer was coming three months early. All in all, a good day for a wedding.

Really, Emily would have been happy with a ten minute ceremony conducted by an Elvis impersonator, but there was a long list of people that wouldn’t let her get anywhere near Las Vegas. First off, there was her mother, who seemed to see it as her maternal duty to ensure, if not an extravagant wedding, then at the very least, an elegant one. Then, there was JJ and Garcia, both of whom seemed to be living vicariously through her, instead of addressing their own marital opportunities.

‘Doesn’t Mommy look pretty?’ Garcia gushed, bouncing the tuxedo-clad toddler on her knee. He didn’t say anything, but instead gave a wide smile – his father’s smile – in response.

‘Considering how much I spent on this dress, I damn well hope Mommy looks pretty,’ Emily said, exasperated. Six months ago, when they’d started planning the wedding, she had promised herself that she wasn’t going to turn into Bridezilla, but the stress had been a little more than she’d expected.

‘Trust me,’ JJ reassured her. ‘You look _amazing_.’

‘It’s the maid of honor’s duty to say that,’ Emily countered, brow wrinkled.

‘Excuse me,’ Garcia interjected. ‘ _Co-_ maid of honor.’

‘Yeah,’ Emily grinned. ‘Because we all know that the person who organized strippers for my bachelorette party was _not_ JJ.’

‘Actually, you’d be surprised at how dirty Agent Jareau’s mind gets,’ Garcia said with a wink. ‘But I won’t spoil that pure, virginal image you have of her.’

Emily turned her attention back towards the full-length mirror in front of her. The dress was strapless, and almost entirely white, save for a band of black embroidery across the top. While the top half was fitted to the waist, the skirt of the dress was loose, but not too loose.

Bangs long since grown out, her hair was pinned to one side, curling against her shoulder. Since Garcia had forbidden her from sitting down, lest she crease the dress, Emily paced instead. While they’d been living together for almost eighteen months, she still felt nervous as hell.

A knock on the door startled her from her self-reflection.

‘Speak friend and enter,’ Garcia called out.

‘Miss Garcia, I hardly think I need a password,’ came the voice of Emily’s mother. Garcia’s face took on a look of horror as she straightened, and went to open the door. Emily bit back a laugh.

‘Who’s here, Chris?’

‘Gamma!’ the toddler answered excitedly, trying to squirm his way out of Garcia’s grasp, and into his grandmother’s.

‘I don’t think I’ll ever quite get used to being called that,’ Elizabeth said, as Garcia passed the boy over. It was a side of her mother that Emily had never quite seen before; her own childhood hadn’t exactly been the happiest, but the Ambassador had mellowed over the years. Her career was still important, but lately, she had been making the effort to spend time with her family. Emily appreciated that fact more than almost anything else in the world.

Almost anything, save for her son, and save for the man that she was going to marry.

The minutes ticked down faster than Emily cared; it felt like seconds later when she was standing at the end of the aisle, looking into Derek Morgan’s deep, dark eyes.

‘You look amazing,’ he whispered.

‘So do you,’ she smiled back. He was wearing a simple black tuxedo that seemed to just ooze sex. But it probably wasn’t a good idea to rip it off in front of over a hundred guests, including several foreign dignitaries.

His eyes twinkled. ‘I love you.’

‘Love you too.’

The priest cleared his throat, and Emily straightened. They couldn’t stand around trading declarations of love all day.

‘Sorry,’ she said, with a half laugh. ‘We’re ready.’

‘That’s quite alright,’ the priest said, and Emily was entirely sure that he was smirking.

Half-giddy with excitement, Emily barely heard the priest’s words as he spoke. All she heard was the word “vows,” at which point she realized that all eyes were on her.

‘Growing up, I lived in a lot of places, but none of them ever felt like home. The day I met Derek Morgan was my first day as a member of the Behavioral Analysis Unit. At first, I thought that they would be just another team; just another group of colleagues to have a beer with after work, but…they weren’t. They were more than just co-workers, or friends…they were family. Derek…has alwaysbeen by my side, has alwayshad my back, even before I knew I loved him. And now…now, I know that this is the man I want to spend the rest of my life with, who will always be by my side, who will always have my back…Who I will _always_ love.’

Taking the ring from JJ, Emily slipped the ring onto his finger, and then bit her lip, stepping back slightly. Morgan was grinning, and the sight made her heart soar with joy.

‘I don’t think I can top that,’ he said, to general laughter from their assembled family and friends. ‘I’m not the greatest at…letting people in, or sharing my emotions in general, but there is one woman in the world, who somehow managed to open that lock, and show me what it was like to love someone with all of my heart. And I am a better man for it. For her. For our son.’ Reid passed Morgan a plain silver band that matched the one she had given him, and held her hand as he put it on. Once finished, he didn’t let go.

Emily was glad as hell that she was wearing waterproof mascara, because a tear had started to well at the corner of her eyes.

‘God, Derek, you’re gonna make me cry,’ she muttered. With his free hand, he wiped the tear away.

When they kissed, it was long, and deep, and passionate. Everything that the first kiss of a married couple should have been. Their relationship was not a traditional one by any means, but then, very little was anymore.

As they made their way to the back of the reception area, Emily caught Garcia blowing her nose, as she cried indiscriminately. Receiving congratulations took far longer than she had expected; while she loved her family and friends dearly, part of her was itching to skip forward to the reception. After the photographs, though, that was almost two hours later, by which point Emily was starving.

‘Can’t we just kidnap a waiter or something?’ she asked Derek. ‘I’m sure they’d understand.’ They were alone in the car – exhausted by the day’s events, a soundly sleeping toddler had been foisted off onto his grandparents.

‘No felonies,’ he instructed her. ‘I don’t want to have to act as your legal defense when I could be soaking up some rays, while drinking margaritas.’

‘Yeah, but wouldn’t that be so much more fun with a scantily-clad brunette rubbing lotion into your abs?’

He pretended to consider the thought for a moment. ‘You’ve convinced me,’ he grinned. ‘You can come.’

‘I damn well better be coming,’ she growled, playfully. ‘What kind of honeymoon would it be otherwise?’

‘A pretty boring one,’ he admitted. He pressed a kiss against her forehead. ‘Come on. Before we die of starvation.’

Food and drink flowed liberally, thanks to the Ambassador’s insistence on paying for the reception. The first thing Emily did was flag down a waiter carrying a tray of mini-quiches. As long as she could eat, she would have the energy to get through the rest of the night.

There were a _lot_ of speeches.

One from every single member of the team, one from Morgan’s mother. Emily almost facepalmed when her father took the microphone, and said just ten words; ‘If you hurt her, they will never find the body.’ Thankfully, Morgan had the good graces to laugh, though Emily didn’t miss the hesitation.

After the speeches, came the cake. They held the knife together as they made the first cut.

‘Good cake,’ Emily murmured, as Morgan fed her the first bite. ‘Chocolate cake is the best cake.’

‘Not traditional, though.’

‘Not traditional,’ she admitted. ‘But it does help with the production of serotonin. Not to mention being an aphrodisiac.’

‘That’s unproven,’ he countered.

‘I think we should test it.’

‘I’m pretty sure any evidence we gathered tonight would be a little confounding, don’t you think?’

Emily gave a half-shrug. ‘I’m not really interested in the results, just the experiment.’

‘You think they’d noticed if we disappeared for half an hour?’

‘Probably,’ Emily said with a sigh. ‘Though I don’t think anyone will be too surprised if we go for a quickie in the bathroom.’

They didn’t, in the end, if only because Emily’s wedding dress was not conducive to cubicle sex. But in the end, they didn’t have to wait too much longer.

‘Hey, sleepyhead.’ Emily bent down and brushed her son’s cheek. His face contorted as he woke, clearly displeased at the fact. ‘I want you to be a good boy for Auntie Garcia tonight, okay? Daddy and I will come by in the morning to say goodbye before we go away.’

Big brown eyes started back at her, and for half a second, Emily considered cancelling their flights. Just for half a second. Chris blinked a few times, before promptly falling back asleep.

‘He’ll be grumpy when he realizes what’s going on,’ Emily warned Garcia. ‘Are you sure you’re okay with this?’

‘Having sole influence over my newest minion for a whole seven days?’ Garcia asked. ‘My dear Miss Emily, I couldn’t think of anything more devious.’

Emily gave Kevin a look. ‘I’m relying on you to make sure I don’t come home to some kind of supervillain, Kevin.’

‘I’ll do my best,’ Kevin assured her. Emily wasn’t entirely convinced.

Morgan’s car was waiting for them in the parking lot, having been driven there by Rossi earlier in the afternoon.

Single night in the Honeymoon Suite of a D.C. hotel, before flying out to Costa Rica in the afternoon. The first holiday either of them had taken in a long while, not to mention their first holiday _together._

‘I was thinking that maybe we could order pizza and watch _Fellowship of the Ring_ ,’ he suggested. Emily gave him a look.

‘That was our first date.’ She frowned. ‘Well…the first time we slept together.’

‘That counts as a date,’ he assured her.

‘I think I’m horny enough without your convoluted seduction techniques, Derek Morgan.’ She sunk into his embrace, fingers undoing his bow-tie. ‘So shut up and take me to bed.’

Morgan smiled, and unzipped the back of her dress.

‘As you wish.’


End file.
